


Take On The World

by HarkaSun



Series: 5 Months of Shadowhunters Challenge [9]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Can't Cook, Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Provides Comfort, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Alec Lightwood, Background Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Bittersweet Ending, Clave Traitor Alec Lightwood, Discrimination Against Downworlders, Downworld Leader Magnus Bane, Epilogue, Forbidden Love, Haircuts, Hiding in Plain Sight, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Magnus Bane, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Major Character Injury, Making Love, On the Run, POV Alec Lightwood, POV Alternating, Protective Alec Lightwood, Robert Lightwood Being an Asshole, Self-Sacrifice, Shadowhunters Hunting Downworlders, Shocking I know, Silent Brothers - Freeform, Temporary Character Death, The Clave are assholes, Trust Issues, Whipping, city of bones - Freeform, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 63,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25031218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarkaSun/pseuds/HarkaSun
Summary: In a world where The Circle were triumphant and their leadership within The Clave resulted in the mass cull of every demon-blooded being on the planet.Magnus Bane is an infamous rebel leader on the run from shadowhunters. Alec Lightwood is a traitor hidden in plain sight, an insignificant foot soldier working out of the New York institute. Together, they are the legends of the Downworld survivors.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: 5 Months of Shadowhunters Challenge [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696138
Comments: 274
Kudos: 601





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For @permetstu and @izzymalec's 5 Months of Shadowhunters Challenge on Tumblr
> 
> Week 13: AU  
> ↳ Downworlders being hunted by The Clave  
> (AKA Clave Traitor Alec Lightwood and Downworld Leader Magnus Bane save Downworlders and have a forbidden romance)

Alec couldn’t say exactly when he had become involved in helping the downworld.

Seeing what he had seen, entire clans of vampires forced from their dens out into the daylight, werewolves captured and injected with liquid silver, an infant warlock put to the sword in sight of its screaming mother; the barbarity of The Clave would turn any man to treason. Or it should. Plenty of his fellow shadowhunters seemed contented with—and many even relished in—the slaughter.

Alec thought it was barbaric. He was wise enough to keep that to himself, however. Many shadowhunters had been executed for less, and his best friend was the grandson of the Inquisitor. Even Jace would likely hand him over to the Clave as a traitor if Alec so much as breathed a word of his doubt.

Ensuring he never had to kill a downworlder required Alec to simply be incompetent. Whenever his father—the head of the New York institute since Alec was a child—sent him on a mission to hunt down a downworlder, Alec would lie. He would say the information was faulty, that there was no one at the location, that they managed to escape. His father hated him for it, put him on cleaning duties and had him training recruits.

To everyone else, he was being punished. To Alec, it was a blessing.

He had no place in the institute—his father refused have him there all the time—so Alec had his own apartment, a small space that had been sanctuary to many a downworlder.

The cupboards were always stocked with long-lasting foods and reusable water bottles. There were two spare bedrooms, each with an extra mattress beneath the bedframe, so his apartment could sleep eight at least somewhat comfortably—nine if someone were to sleep on the sofa and eleven if two were to take Alec's own bedroom. Blankets and pillows filled the bottom of his wardrobe, and he had clothes for every age group tucked away beneath his own.

His entire apartment was basically a getaway bag for any downworlder who might come knocking on his door. It was highly unlikely that a stranger would show up without warning, however. Alec’s address and name were known only to a single downworlder, and he did not give it out lightly.

That was why, when Alec was woken at four o’clock one Saturday morning, he knew it could only be one person. Magnus rarely turned up without warning, but in certain cases it was too dangerous to call ahead. Pulling on a pair of jeans and some socks to accompany the vest and boxers he slept in, Alec hurried to attend the door, looking through the peephole before pulling it open.

There were downworlders on his doorstep again, pale and tired and none more so than Magnus, half leaned against the doorframe.

“I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice,” said Magnus and, by the angel, he really did look exhausted.

Alec shook his head quickly. “God, get in all of you,” he ordered, pulling his door open wide and ushering them inside.

Magnus cast him a grateful look, gesturing to the ragged group to do as Alec said. They bundled inside one by one. There were five of them, Magnus excluded. A woman with her face hidden in a hood escorting a little girl, a pale young man who cast Alec a wary half-glare as he entered, another who thanked him quietly, a girl in her late teens who adjusted a scarf around her neck.

The men were vampires, the teenager a werewolf. Alec deduced from matching silver bands that the others were warlocks. The Clave’s method of suppressing magic with runed wristbands had been put to good use by the warlock community, who had started to use them when shadowhunters had taken to tracking their magical essence.

Alec gave the corridor outside a quick look, ensuring there were no others and that they weren’t followed, before firmly closing and locking his door. The hooded woman met his eyes hesitantly and Alec saw that her skin was blue. Definitely a warlock.

“It’s okay,” he said to the wary group. “You’re safe here. There are two rooms to the left with beds. I have spare mattresses under both of them. If there’s anything you need, just ask.”

“You got food?” the werewolf asked him and Alec nodded, pointed to the kitchen.

“Help yourself,” he said, and she was gone almost before he finished. “There’s a bedroom through there too!” he called after her. It was his bedroom, but five was a lot for Magnus to bring and Alec knew he wouldn’t be sleeping regardless.

“Maia,” Magnus introduced Alec to the departing werewolf. “Don’t take it personally. She’s like that with everyone… She’s been through a lot.”

Alec nodded, used to downworlders abruptness by now.

The others dispersed more slowly, spreading themselves through the room. The vampires went into one of the rooms, their sleep schedule so out of sync by this point that Alec assumed they just slept whenever they could. The hooded warlock removed her heavy robe, revealing her blue skin and white hair and led the young girl over to one of the sofas, sitting her down and speaking to her in quiet tones.

Glancing to the side, Alec took Magnus in properly, a man he hadn’t seen in months now.

The warlock had his arms wrapped over his chest in the way that he did when one of his endeavours went badly wrong. His eyes were darkly shadowed, his hair tied haphazardly back in a messy bun. He seemed to get more and more haggard every time Alec saw him.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked gently, drawing the golden gaze to his face, the visible mark an involuntary reaction to warlock’s suppressing their magic.

Magnus forced a weak smile, but it wasn’t at all convincing. “I’m fine. Thank you for doing this again. I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you beforehand. It’s been a hectic night.”

Alec didn’t ask. If Magnus wanted to tell him, then he would.

“There’s still a room free,” he said. “You should rest. You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Magnus said again, walking away from Alec and to the two warlocks huddled on the sofa.

Alec watched him rest a hand atop the girl’s head, exchanging a few, soft words with the blue-skinned woman. As always, he had to marvel at Magnus’s devotion to his people.

The little girl was shaking her head, holding a scarf protectively around her neck. Magnus crouched to speak to her, but, whatever he said, the girl simply shook her head again. Magnus’s eyes were soft, but so weary, and Alec decisively wandered to them.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he approached, not taking it personally when the girl whimpered and buried her face in the woman’s leg.

“She doesn’t like shadowhunters,” said the woman, looking to Alec. “Or strangers.”

Magnus sighed softly and pushed himself to his feet. “He’s not like the others.”

Alec pursed his lips in soft thought, crouching to the girl’s height and giving her a gentle smile. “How about if we weren’t strangers?” he said as gently as he could, and the girl peered at him, still cautious. “My name’s Alec… What’s yours?”

He could feel Magnus staring at him. Downworlders didn’t know his name; that was the cornerstone of his secrecy, that thing that kept him safe from passing rumours leading to his arrest and inevitable death. Alec didn’t care about that right now. All he cared about was this girl hesitantly turning her head to look at him.

“Madzie,” she said in a voice hushed with caution and high with fear.

“Madzie,” Alec repeated, smiled. “That’s a very pretty name… Madzie, you’re safe here, okay? I have lots of downworlders here all the time. You know that Magnus wouldn’t bring you here if it wasn’t safe, right? There’s food and water and a bed you can sleep in.”

Madzie’s lip trembled. “I can’t sleep without a light… We lost all our candles when the shadowhunters came.”

“Oh, I have lots of candles,” said Alec, nodding his assurance. “I have some nightlights too if you want.”

Madzie tilted her head a little. “What’s a nightlight?”

Alec offered her his hand. “Can I show you?”

There is a moment of hesitation during which Alec kept his hand steady and out, a choice for Madzie to make. Alec supposed she hadn’t had the opportunity to make a lot of choices in her short life. Downworlders were on the run from the moment they were born.

She took his hand.

“Okay,” she said, still timid.

Her hand was tiny in Alec’s and he curled gentle fingers around it.

She let him lead her to the bedroom. The warlock woman and Magnus followed them, the woman keeping a close eye on Alec the entire time. Alec turned the light on as they entered, led Madzie over to the bedside table and opened the third drawer down to reveal a small collection of a dozen different nightlights.

Madzie frowned at them, tilted her head, but chose one under Alec’s gentle prompting, pointed to one shaped like a crescent moon. Alec picked it out and turned to the plug low on the wall. The nightlight immediately took a blueish-white glow upon being pushed into the plug socket and Madzie’s eyes widened, looking to Alec in amazement.

“It that okay?” Alec asked, looked to Magnus. “Can you get the light?”

The warlock did so and Madzie leaned a little closer to Alec. The main light shut off, but the room remained bright enough to see, a silver glow over everything in sight. Madzie stared up at Alec, her eyes shining the soft shine of the nightlight.

Alec was on the verge of a query before small arms were flung around his shoulders and a quiet breath was knocked from him at the sheer unexpectedness of the hug. He met Magnus’s eye over the girl’s small shoulder. The warlock nodded once and softly, a gentle and approving look in his eyes.

He turned and exchanged a quiet word with the woman before leaving the room.

Madzie released him and Alec helped her up onto the bed at her soft request. Turning to the door, the woman gently clasped his shoulder, giving him a soft word of thanks before moving to the bed. As Alec closed the door, he caught a glimpse of the girl’s warlock mark when the woman gently removed the scarf, rows of flaring gills across the side of her neck.

Back in the main room, Alec looked for Magnus and found him leaned against a wall between the windows overlooking the street, his eyes closed and his head bowed slightly, as if asleep standing up. Alec approached him as quietly as possible, waiting for Magnus to look at him, but he didn’t.

“Magnus.”

The warlock’s head lifted abruptly, his eye snapping open, still low and exhausted, and he rubbed a hand to them. He straightened his posture a little more, taking a breath that he let out as a half-sigh.

“You can sleep,” Alec offered. “I can get a mattress out. You can take the sofa if you want.”

Magnus shook his head. “I need to stay alert.”

Alec narrowed his eyes. “You’re not alert, Magnus. You’re dead on your feet, come on. When’s the last time you slept?”

“I have to protect them, Alec,” he muttered, leaning back against the wall and—it certainly hadn’t slipped Alec’s attention—purposefully avoiding the question. “I have to be here for when they need me.”

“They’ll all be asleep for another few hours at least. They’re safe here, Magnus. You know that,” said Alec, eyes narrowed in thought. “At least come and sit down.”

Magnus breathed out slowly, like Alec was so infuriating, but he nodded and obediently followed Alec to the sofa. When he sat, he dragged Alec down with him, catching the back of his jacket in one hand to pull him back. Alec gave a light chuckle, yielding under Magnus’s insistent tug and collapsing beside him onto the sofa.

The amusement died as he remembered the world that they lived in, the hardships that Magnus faced every day. He hoped that he might be some comfort, or at least some help in easing some of that responsibility. He couldn’t help but yearn for something better.

“Do you think it’ll change?”

Magnus looked to him briefly before letting his head back and sighing up at the ceiling. “I have been alive... for centuries. I thought it would change. I thought it would get better...” He stared aimlessly upwards. “It got worse, Alec. I watched people I loved be butchered like animals... and I learned to stop wishing and hoping for a future that would never come. I stopped dreaming.”

Alec turned to him, grasping his arm gently. “Hey,” he coaxed, drawing the warlock’s gold gaze onto him. “You can’t think like that. You’ve got people who rely on you. If anyone needs to have hope... I’m sorry, but it has to be you. They need you.”

Magnus stared at him, dropping his gaze when he lifted his hand to clasp over Alec’s own, just holding him a long moment. “It’s hard,” he admitted. It was rare for him to be so open, but nights like these seemed to bring out his vulnerabilities.

“I know it is,” said Alec, nodding slow and reassuring, “but you’re strong. For now, just convince them that you’re hopeful and eventually you’ll start to believe it yourself.”

Magnus said nothing. His eyes drifted absently to their hands, laid atop one another over his arm. Alec cleared his throat quietly, trying to remove his hand, but Magnus held him, laced their fingers together to keep him in place.

Alec swallowed hard, said nothing. It was the second time tonight that he had seen Magnus like this. His breathing was off. There was a strange glint in his cat eyes. Alec had never seen Magnus cry. He wouldn’t see it now.

“I’m glad to have you,” said Magnus, whispering to him in the darkness.

Alec didn’t dwell on the possessive implications of that. Alec didn’t think too much about how close they were or how their hands were still joined. Alec didn’t let his brain make his decisions for him when he leaned forward to press his lips upon Magnus’s own.

The warlock gave a muffled sound of surprise, although Alec knew he wasn’t shocked in the slightest. They had been dancing around this for years now, always brushing it off as a close friendship and partnership, always too caught up in the downworld to think of themselves. Magnus lifted a hand to lightly hold the side of the shadowhunter’s neck.

It was Alec’s first kiss and it was perfect, if not long overdue.

When their lips broke, they stayed within inches of one another, foreheads resting together gently, Magnus’s hand still upon the deflect rune on Alec’s neck. Neither dared to open their eyes, too afraid of leaving this perfect moment they had created in such a dark world.

“I want you to get some sleep tonight,” Alec requested softly, finally breaking the trance. “I need to be sure you’re safe… just for one night.”

Magnus breathed out his amusement, tainted with sadness. “You don’t need to worry about me, Alexander.”

Alec allowed his eyes to open. “I worry about you all the time,” he admitted, drawing Magnus’s golden gaze onto him, breaking the touch of their foreheads. “I’m scared that I’ll walk into the institute one day and they’ll be talking about how someone took down Magnus Bane and I’ll have nothing left.”

“You will have them,” said Magnus, gesturing vaguely to the rooms behind the sofa. “If something happens to me… someone has to be there for them. _You_ are the only one I trust to keep them safe.” He swallowed hard, quirking a weak smile. The pad of his thumb passed gently across Alec’s cheek. “You really know how to follow up a kiss by the way. Talking about my imminent death is very sexy of you.”

“God, I’m sorry,” Alec said, shaking his head slowly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t… We shouldn’t talk about that.”

Magnus gave him a sympathetic kind of look, blinked away to be replaced with an easy smile. “You know… I am a little tired actually.”

Alec could almost cry. He didn’t. Magnus was doing it deliberately, adhering to Alec’s wishes that he rest, simply to ease the shadowhunter’s anxious mind. Alec loved him for that understanding nature. Instead of tears, he forced a stiff nod.

Magnus began to remove his layers and Alec murmured something incoherent about a blanket before hastily making his way to the chest of drawers beside the front door. The warlock chuckled softly behind him. When he had a blanket, Alec turned back to the sofa, swallowing hard when he saw Magnus was stripped down to a vest and boxers.

“Your turn,” Magnus said, accepting the blanket when Alec gave it to him.

It was difficult to refuse with Magnus looking up at him with those big, gold eyes, but Alec forced himself to shake his head. “You need to sleep properly,” he said, coaxing Magnus into lying down, sitting on the coffee table as he helped the warlock spread out the blanket. “I’ll keep watch.”

Magnus gazed up at him, his eyelids already heavier. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, reaching a hand up to shift a cushion under his head. “Why do you do it?”

“You know why,” Alec replied simply.

He watched Magnus’s eyes slip and close, remaining sat at his side, waiting until his breathing came deeper. Alec reached to push a stray lock of hair back from Magnus’s face, fighting to quash a burning sensation rising in his chest. Usually, he would tell himself it was admiration. It was true, but that wasn’t all.

Alec knew what it was.

He also knew it was impossible. The whole world was against them, the universe screaming that they could never be together, not like that. Alec elected to ignore the universe. Magnus was loyal to his people and he would die for them without a thought. Alec must be prepared to do the same.

Maybe their efforts would be remembered after their inevitable deaths. Maybe someone, somewhere would make a real difference one day. Maybe the world would change. There would never be another uprising from either side; The Clave were too strong and the Downworlders too few. All they could do now was keep running, keep hiding.

For Alec and Magnus, all they could do was try to hold back the tide. For as long as possible. Together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years prior, a squadron of shadowhunters came to search one of Magnus's safe houses. This was the first time he met Alec Lightwood. This was the night his life changed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand! Sorry for the wait; I've got way too many stories on the go right now. I've got a lot of ideas for this one, so there will likely be several more chapters to come. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Five years ago…_

* * *

The penthouse apartment of Nightingale towers wouldn’t be safe for long.

The slaughter of downworld leaders in the Accords Hall that the shadowhunters so misguidedly called ‘the uprising’ was almost twenty years gone. In the aftermath of the massacre, Magnus had somehow found himself supporting and caring for hundreds of panicked downworlders without leaders. He was as close to ‘next in line’ as a downworlder could have been.

Honestly, it was surprising that he had lived this long.

The downworlders knew him as a leader who would help anyone who showed up at his door without question. The shadowhunters knew him as a criminal who harboured downworlders and kept them from being captured and killed. The prevention of genocide was illegal in their world. It was a horrifying truth.

It was the very nature of their existence that they were constantly at risk of being murdered, that no place was safe, that they must always run somewhere new, never settling down or getting comfortable for long enough it to become familiar. This apartment was one that Magnus favoured, but it was no different to any of the others.

They couldn’t stay.

His people told him as much, their fear and their panic hanging around them like fog, the auras so thick it was almost suffocating. They came to Magnus to voice these fears every day.

“It’s not safe here, Magnus.”

“They know about this place.”

“Magnus, there are children here.”

“How long can we stay before they find us?”

The last was always the worst because Magnus didn’t know the answer. He couldn’t say that, however. He could never admit to lack of knowledge or strength or be anything less than their fearless leader. He gave them comfort as sincerely as he could, even when he knew it was false.

To be fearless or to feel comforted weren’t luxuries he could afford. Magnus was terrified all the time. He couldn’t show it.

He never sleeps for more than four hours a night. He is always tired. Whether it was nightmares or his people or simply his internal clock that woke him, it never exceeded four hours. The day it happened, his schedule was no different.

He was shaken awake in the early evening. It was Catarina. It was her who had insisted that he rest after going non-stop for three days straight, and it was her now with her hand on his shoulder and fear on her face. Magnus’s aching muscles and sleep-deprived mind screamed in protest, but he elected to ignore them.

“They’ve found us,” Catarina hissed. “They’re on the stairs.”

Magnus was up in an instant. “Shadowhunters?”

“Raleigh says they’re three flights up. There’s a whole squadron—seven or so soldiers. The Herondale boy is leading them.”

Magnus gritted his teeth. “They’re letting children lead hunts now? What is he, seventeen?”

The main room is abuzz with concern. There are so many of them here this time; a dozen or so werewolves, vampires, seelies, and warlocks all huddled together and sharing in their terror.

“Alright, hey,” Magnus said, his hands held up to calm them. “It’s alright. I want everyone to go out onto the balcony; there’s a fire escape that leads into an alley. We’ll take the sewer from there. Catarina is going to lead you and I’ll follow at the back to help anyone having trouble. Quick and quiet, okay?”

The crowd nodded in unison and hurried to get outside. Magnus placed his hand to Luke’s back to help his stand. The werewolf was still having trouble from his last run in with the shadowhunters, his wounds not yet properly healed despite Catarina’s best efforts. He winced softly when Magnus got him to his feet, clutching the warlock for support.

Magnus muttered soft words of encouragement to him as he helped the man out to the balcony. They were the last to leave to apartment. Magnus closed and locked the door behind them. The others were crowding to the fire escape. Luke leaned out of his touch, thanking him softly, but assuring him he would be fine.

“Magnus,” Catarina gasped, dodging past Luke and rushing to Magnus’s side. “I can’t find Madzie. Charles thinks Freya’s still in there too.”

As she said it, Charles rushed to Magnus’s other side. “We need to go back in. Freya—she’s probably hiding. The panic must have scared her. I have to go and get her.”

“No,” said Magnus. “ _You_ aren’t doing anything. _I’ll_ go. If I need to, I’ll distract the shadowhunters while the girls get away.”

Charles just stares at him his eyes filled with panic. “Magnus—”

“I’ll find them. Get out of here. We’ll meet you down in the sewers.”

Shoving the balcony doors open, Magnus kicked them back with his foot before rushing into the apartment, not daring to shout for the girls for fear that the shadowhunters would hear him and come running. There is movement outside the front door and Magnus dodges into the bedroom as it opens.

A small head peeked out from behind the bed and Magnus lifted an urgent finger to his lips. Madzie nodded solemnly, clutching at the girl beside her. Freya’s face was pale and haunted and she seemed too scared to even move. They were both barely four years old. Magnus couldn’t let the shadowhunters get to them.

“Search the place!” a commanding voice sounded from out in the loft and Magnus gestured urgently to the closet.

The girls ran to it, Madzie tugging Freya behind her. Magnus was planning on staying out in the bedroom, to face the shadowhunters down. If they caught him, they would likely abandon the apartment in favour of getting him to their institute to show him off before they killed him. Madzie grabbed his arm and dragged him back with them, closing the closet doors behind them.

“Madzie,” Magnus hissed in disapproval, his hand to the closet door.

Footsteps entered the room and his hand stilled. The girls were silent and shaking at his sides. It was only one shadowhunter outside. Magnus could take them. He could rip off the band around his wrist and release his magic and it would hold them long enough for the girls to escape.

Freya shook her head and buried her face in her hands, unable to express her fear in words. Magnus lifted a finger to his lips to hush her silently, desperately trying to calm her without touch, fearing that if he tried to hold her, she might panic and that would draw attention to them.

The bedroom outside was silent for a long moment. Magnus held his breath, sunk to his knees when Freya clutched at him and collapsed in silent sobs. Madzie knelt at his other side, buried her face in his shoulder. The footsteps resumed, closer now, and Magnus was seconds away from taking off his band when the closet door wrenched open.

It was a young shadowhunter with dark hair and a bow, an arrow pointed in Magnus’s face. The warlock made a quick and possibly idiotic decision.

“Wait, please!” Magnus gasped, casting a desperate hand to still the shadowhunter’s arrow, the other holding the girls behind him.

Somehow, that made him stop. The shadowhunter stared down at them, a soft pinch to his brow like he was grieved to find them there. God, he was barely more than a kid himself, appearing just around seventeen or so, just a teenager.

“Please,” Magnus uttered, swallowing hard. “Please, they’re just children. Kill me if you need to, but, please, let them go. They’re innocent.”

“Magnus, no,” Madzie pleaded, grabbing his arm.

Magnus managed to conceal his wince. The shadowhunters knew of him, they knew he was the one hiding downworlders away in the city, creating safe spaces for them to live until he could move them somewhere safe. Capturing him would mean a lot of attention and at least a handsome reward, perhaps even a substantial promotion, for the shadowhunter who managed it. For a young soldier such as this one, it would be the highlight of his career.

“Take me,” said Magnus, staring up at the teenager, who had lowered his bow, the arrow falling in the slack string. “I’ll come quietly. Just, please, let them go.”

“Alec!” a voice called from another room and Magnus closed his eyes briefly, his heart in his throat. “You found anything?”

The young man, whose name was apparently Alec, glanced quickly to the voice, his eyes coming back to Magnus and staying there as he replied “no,” making the warlock glance up at him in shock. “No, there’s no one in here.”

Magnus gaped at him, but the shadowhunter shook his head minutely, lifting a finger to his lips in a silent hush and closing the doors on them again, throwing the trio back into darkness. Mind reeling, Magnus simply drew the girls closer.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay, we have to be quiet.”

“Who’s that?” Madzie asked shakily. “Do you know him?”

Swallowing hard, Magnus stared at the slit of light where the doors of the wardrobe connected. “No,” he replied honestly. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

Their wait in the closet was long and quiet and Magnus’s entire body was cramping by the time a shadowhunter outside yelled “we’re done here” and the apartment fell silent in the wake of the front door closing. Madzie began to stand, but Magnus held her down.

“Wait,” he ordered. “Wait a little longer.”

She did. Magnus managed to get Freya calm enough to stop crying, gently lifting her head to sign to her, promising that he would keep her safe. The loft outside remained silent the entire time.

“You both stay here,” he said, rising to his feet and pressing a hand to the door.

It opened with a quiet creak and Magnus waited a few seconds more before exiting into the bedroom. He closed the closet door behind him. Halfway across the bedroom, there was a click and a creak and he flattened himself back against the wall, recognising the sound as the front door of the apartment being pushed open.

Footsteps approached the bedroom and Magnus unsheathed a blade from its place on his hip, holding it flat against his chest in a firm grip, waiting with bated breath as the steps came closer and closer. It was only one. He could take one easily.

A figure entered the room hesitantly, lingering at the door and looking around. A rune was burned black against the side of his neck. When he continued towards the closet, Magnus struck out with his heel, connecting hard with the back of the shadowhunter’s knee and the boy fell with a grunt. Magnus immediately came behind him, one hand in his hair, the other pressing the blade to his throat.

“Wait, wait,” the boy said quickly, lifting his hands in submission. It wasn’t begging. Shadowhunters didn’t beg. “Please—”

“Throw your weapons down,” Magnus ordered, his blade threatening the boy’s throat when he hesitated. “Now.”

The shadowhunter did so immediately, taking the bow from his shoulder and the quiver from his back, unstrapping a thigh holster and tossing them all aside. It was the same boy who found them in the closet, the same boy who lied to his commanding officer and kept them secreted away. Magnus had to assume that he kept them safe throughout the duration of the search too.

“Just... Just don’t kill me yet,” said the shadowhunter. “The streets are crawling with shadowhunters. You can’t stay here.”

“Why do you care?” demanded Magnus, eyeing the discarded bow. “You... You could’ve killed me and you didn’t. You lied to your commanding officer. Why?”

“There were children with you,” the shadowhunter said simply. “I’ve seen kids die before—I’ve seen your people slaughtered—and I never want to see it again. Please, I can help you.”

Magnus curled his lip. “You’re a shadowhunter.”

“And I’ll atone for it until I die, but right now we need to move.”

Shaking his head slowly, Magnus swallowed hard and narrowed his eyes at the young shadowhunter. “Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m just asking you not to kill me so I can help you get out of here.”

Magnus gritted his teeth and, upon realising he didn’t have much of a choice, he slowly lowered the blade from the boy’s throat. “What’s your plan?” he asked, sheathing the dagger and going to the closet, still ensuring to keep his eyes on the shadowhunter.

“We should go down the main stairwell,” said the boy, watching him open the closet doors. “If we run into any shadowhunters, I’ll talk them away. There’s a backdoor into the alley on the ground floor.”

Magnus hummed softly, crouching in front of the open closet. “It’s okay,” he said and signed, gently coaxing Freya’s head up to him so she could see his hands and his lips move. “It’s okay. This man’s going to help us.”

They kept behind him even as he guided them out into the bedroom, clutching at his legs and staring warily at the shadowhunter. Magnus couldn’t blame them. Freya’s mother had been slaughtered by shadowhunters, murdered for simply birthing a warlock; something completely out of her control. Already born deaf, Freya had been muted by a shadowhunter’s failed attempt at killing her. She would likely have that scar over her throat and a deep fear of shadowhunters for as long as she lived.

Still, the girls were compliant while Magnus led them behind the shadowhunter. Occasionally, the young shadowhunter would cast his hand up to them in warning to stop and they would freeze on the stairs while the boy convinced one of his comrades five feet away that there were no downworlders here.

It went surprisingly well, but that didn’t alleviate Magnus’s fear. The girl’s lives were in his hands. It was nothing new, but it was still terrifying.

The shadowhunter would look back every now and then to ensure they were still following. Magnus didn’t know what to make of the boy. He was a _shadowhunter_ after all. He had likely killed dozens of downworlders. Magnus wondered what changed his mind, wondered why he decided that the purpose of his entire species was now wrong. Killing downworlders seemed to be all that shadowhunters did now.

They reached the alleyway without being seen. It was a musty and damp space between two towering buildings, just a few metres wide and dark in the fading evening light. The boy looked around hurriedly, as if searching for a way for them to go without using the main street. Magnus grabbed the manhole cover at their feet, hauling it aside. Hot air rises up from below and Magnus wrinkled his nose absently, practically used to the smell by now.

“You’re going down there?” the boy asked and arm held up to his face to shield his nose.

“You see another way out?” Magnus said, fighting not to give away that this was their main way to get around the city without being seen. He still wasn’t sure he could trust this boy. For god’s sake, he was a _shadowhunter_. “Girls, come on.”

Madzie and Freya climbed down the ladder without complaint. When Magnus went to follow, the shadowhunter boy grabbed his arm. Honestly, the warlock was a second away from punching him in the face, too used to being grabbed by shadowhunters in aggression, but the look in the boy’s eyes made him pause. He was _worried_.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Magnus tilted his head, evermore curious with this shadowhunter. “We’ll be fine. We’ve made it this far.”

The teenager worked his jaw and gave a small shrug, releasing the warlock’s arm. “My name’s Alec.”

Magnus huffed. “Never tell anyone your name. You’ll die twice as quick.” The boy ducked his gaze, crestfallen, and Magnus sighed softly, regretting being so harsh. “Thank you, Alec.” He tilted his head softly. “If you’re lucky, we’ll never meet again.”

Alec quirked an absent smile, though there was little joy behind it. “Well, you were lucky I was there today. Maybe you’ll get lucky again.”

Magnus chuckled softly and it sounded so foreign to his ears. He hadn’t laughed in weeks, maybe months. Alec’s little unintentional inuendo was probably the only joke he had heard in years. The amusement faded slowly as he stared up at the boy, at _Alec_.

“I owe you my life,” he said. “I won’t forget that.”

There was a call from the street and Alec grabbed Magnus’s arm, leading him down through the manhole. Magnus was going to protest, worried about Alec’s safety and how he would explain why he was in the alleyway alone and, in his more cynical mind, that this was a trick for Magnus to lead him to his people.

“I’ll deal with them,” Alec said. “Go.”

Magnus hesitated a moment longer. “Thank you,” he said again, "and be careful. If anyone were to find out about what you did today—”

“They won’t,” Alec said, the confidence at least part façade, but he played it well. “Now, go. Keep your people safe. I’ll keep mine away from you.”

There wasn’t time to argue. Magnus climbed down beneath the city, watching Alec slide the cover across and throw them into darkness. One of the girls clutched at him, and Magnus set a hand to her head, recognising the touch as Freya.

It was difficult to explain to her in the dark—he could barely see his own hands after all—but Magnus assumed she finally understood when she took Madzie's hand. The girls disappeared into the darkness of the tunnels. They knew the way and Magnus couldn’t go with them, not yet.

Despite what Alec had done, Magnus couldn’t trust him not to follow with a squadron of shadowhunters. This could all be a trick to get their entire group killed. He couldn’t trust anyone. So, Magnus settled down, his back to the wall beside the ladder, sitting alone in the dark beneath the city. He thought about Alec.

Magnus had lived for hundreds of years. He had survived shadowhunters this long and, admittedly, Alec wasn’t the first he had come across who didn’t want to murder him, but, since the uprising, it seemed that every shadowhunter had been the same. They only wanted death.

Perhaps this one could be different. Magnus hoped so. It had been so long since anyone had been on their side, on _his_ side. Alec was just a teenager, however, too young to be caught up in something so dangerous. If this wasn’t a trap, and if it was discovered that he had helped Magnus escape, he would be sent to the guard and executed.

Magnus raked a hand into his hair, despaired at the thought of that boy burned to death on account of him. It couldn’t be a trap. Alec had risked everything to get them out of that apartment safely. If fate was kind, however, the shadowhunter would never have to do anything like that ever again. If the boy wanted a normal life, he would forget this ever happened.

If his Angel was watching over him, Alec would never again feel compelled to save the life of a downworlder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months after they shared their first kiss, Magnus turned up on Alec's doorstep once more. This time wasn't like the last, however. This time, he was alone and, this time, he was injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG thank you to those who commented on the last chapter: @PhoenixStar73, @jillyfae, @kokomi33, @gaydaractivate04, @Aquitaine, and @Vallier! Really appreciate those of you who came back for more after the initial oneshot, so thank you!

* * *

_Present Day_

* * *

Alec hadn’t seen Magnus in weeks and he was starting to panic.

It had been almost two months since their long overdue first kiss and, although Magnus had dropped by very briefly about a week after on his way out of the state, it was too long since he had last seen the warlock.

He tried to find out what he could at the institute, but, as a glorified cleaner, he wasn’t privy to much information. Sometimes Jace would tell him things, but it was mainly bragging about those he had caught or killed on a hunt. On one hand, Magnus’s name had never come up, yet, on the other, it was always horrifying to hear stories from the field.

Jace played it off as duty and obligation to rid the world of demons and Alec wanted to scream at him all the time. They had been best friends in their youth. Jace had lived with them for most of his childhood while his grandmother was acting as inquisitor in Alicante. She didn’t have time for him then. Now that he was a man grown, she was openly and fiercely proud of him and his bloodlust.

As a Herondale raised by Lightwoods, Jace was the prized jewel of the New York Institute. At seventeen, he was leading hunts for downworlders all over the city. Now, at twenty-two, it was barely any different. Jace was the golden boy, the leader, the favourite—not only of his grandmother, but also of Alec’s own parents.

Alec had used to feel bitter about it all. Now, he was relieved for the lack of attention. Barely three people at the institute even cared to speak to him. It was unlikely that anyone would suspect the boy who cleaned their weapons to be harbouring downworlders in his tiny apartment downtown.

It had been weeks since a downworlder had stepped foot in his home, however, and Alec was beginning to worry. He kept the supplies up, buying more food and candles and suchlike just in case anyone were to stop by unexpectedly. It wasn’t necessarily because he was running low on supplies, he just needed to feel like he was doing something. He needed to stop imaging all the terrible things that could have befallen Magnus and his people.

It was almost a relief when he was startled out of bed close to midnight by a knock on the door.

In such a hurry, he was still zipping up his jeans when he reached the door, taking a look through the peephole to see that it was in fact Magnus stood there. It was difficult to tell much through the small hole, but the shadowhunter could at least see that he looked exhausted. Alec opened the door for him immediately.

“Magnus,” he uttered in relief, his breath catching when he saw how the warlock was stood.

One hand was clutching the doorframe, but the other was braced low on his abdomen. Thick, crimson trails seeped through his fingers, staining his ashen skin a startling red. His expression was heavy with exhaustion, his brow, damp with sweat, drawn and tight with pain.

“Magnus,” Alec repeated, barely a breath, his eyes widening. “Oh my god...”

“Sorry... I didn’t call ahead...” Magnus managed to get out before his grip on the door was slipping.

Alec lunged to catch him, ducking under his arm as a support. Magnus was breathing strangely.

“What happened?” Alec asked as he helped the warlock into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. Magnus just groaned softly at the effort of walking. “Steady, okay? Stay awake. Tell me what happened.”

“I... I was stabbed,” Magnus uttered, swallowed hard. “One of those stupid... smaller blades some of you carry...” He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as Alec shifted to open the bedroom door. “Fuck, Alec, it hurts...”

“It’s okay,” Alec said, lowered him carefully onto the bed. He ignored the honesty. “Lie back. Let me look. Did it go through?”

Magnus shook his head as it fell against the pillows, his eyelids heavy. “Jus’... Jus’ need the room to... stop spinning...”

“Magnus,” Alec coaxed, really needing more information before his eyes closed that finally. He risked a touch to the warlock’s cheek, tilting his head a little. “Magnus?”

A soft sigh exhaled from his lips when he realised that Magnus was unconscious. He slid a careful hand beneath his back to check for an exit wound, but thankfully found none. One less thing to worry about.

The most pressing concern right now was the sheer volume of blood loss.

So, Alec focused on stopping the blood flow, unbuttoning Magnus’s shirt to get a clearer view of the wound. For a moment, he slowed, ran a hand lightly over Magnus’s dark chest. There was no hair there, not like Alec’s, but Magnus’s chest was absolutely littered with scars.

Some were faded white on his chest, some were newer, red and scabbed. Centuries of repressed magic, centuries of fighting for his life and the lives of his people, all the years laid out there in his scars. Alec absently touched one or two, ran his fingers down the damaged skin. Magnus didn’t flinch and Alec looked to his face, unconscious and helpless, and took his hand away.

He tended to Magnus for hours, applying ointment and stitching and bandaging, hooking him up to an IV to give him fluids (warlocks couldn’t have blood transfusions after all), pulling a mask over his nose and mouth to give him oxygen, feeling his forehead and bringing more blankets for him when his skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Every breath came strained and shallow through the mask. Alec didn’t want to leave him.

It wasn’t like in the movies. Alec didn’t feel the need to talk aloud, to hold Magnus’s hand, to touch him in any way but what was necessary. When the wound was taken care of, he simply settled on making Magnus more comfortable, removing his shoes and his jacket and shirt, setting the rings from his fingers on the bedside table along with the piercings from his ears. He cleaned the smudges from dark eyeliner as best he could (he had bought makeup wipes specifically for Magnus).

It was oddly important to Magnus. Alec had once asked him how he had the time for piercings and rings and eyeliner, and the warlock had made a point about how important it was to be an individual, how vital it was to him that he didn’t stray too much from who he was before the uprising. Alec hadn’t understood at the time. Maybe he did now.

He let Magnus’s hair out from its messily tied bun. It reminded him of Jace’s a little from the way it came across his forehead and into his eyes, and he swept it all back and to one side to give Magnus some contrast to Alec’s bloodthirsty brother. The warlock usually had it cut shorter, shaved close at the sides and coiffed up at the top, but there wasn’t a lot of time for haircuts while he was running for his life.

Once he was satisfied, Alec simply watched to ensure that Magnus didn’t move around too much, lest he risk causing himself pain or tearing the stitches.

There was moment in the night when Magnus was on the verge of waking, but he mumbled a little and wasn’t making any sense. Alec braced his hands against Magnus’s twitching and reaching arms, trying to gauge whether this was a nightmare or whether Magnus was delusional. The warlock gasped and hummed, brow furrowed in discomfort.

“Magnus,” Alec said calmly, “can you hear me?”

Eyelids, dark with exhaustion, prised and parted and irises of molten gold stared up at the shadowhunter. “Alec...” Magnus said, his lips barely moving, a weak smile catching his lips just so briefly. The oxygen mask clouded with every strained exhale. “‘m... ‘m not doing too good...”

“It’ll be okay,” said Alec. “You lost a lot of blood. I’m giving you fluids through an IV. You have to stay still though. You need rest, you understand?”

Magnus’s eyes rolled and flickered. “Alec... it hurts...”

“I know it does. It’s okay.”

Alec released Magnus’s arms, turning back to the bedside table and picking out an already prepared syringe. He knew that Magnus wouldn’t be admitting his pain like that if he hadn’t lost so much blood. Maybe it was a little selfish of him to want the warlock asleep, but it would be good for Magnus too. He wouldn't have to hurt if he was asleep.

Golden eyes tracked his movements sluggishly.

“What...” Magnus began, trying to shift away.

“It’s okay,” Alec repeated, pushed the needle into the IV drip and slowly depressed the plunger. “It’ll take a minute, but it’s going to help you sleep. Just give it a little time.”

Magnus blinked up at him, something lost and distant in his eyes. It was as if he couldn’t actually see it was Alec there with him. “Do you ever get tired of it all…?” he asked, his focus shifting and slipping and Alec gently touched his temple to guide his rapidly fading eyes back to him. “I’m so tired… ’m trying to be strong…”

“And you are,” said Alec, pushing stray locks of hair back from his face. “Don’t ever doubt your strength, Magnus… It’s okay if you’re tired. You’re still so strong. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Dark eyes stared up at him, heavy and shadowed. “Alec…”

“Relax,” Alec coaxed, gave him a soft nod. “It’s okay. Rest now. Let me keep watch.”

Magnus’s eyes were closing. “Must be bored…” he began, fighting and failing to keep them open, “… of watching over me…” He smiled weakly, despite his slackening expression. “My guardian angel…”

A vaguely shaky hand lifted to Magnus’s hair. Alec pushed the long locks aside with his fingers. “Go back to sleep,” he urged in a soft whisper.

Alec combed the warlock’s hair back with his fingers, kept his hand moving until Magnus fell once more out of consciousness, the morphine taking effect. The shadowhunter did what he always did. He did as he promised.

He kept watch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus wakes up in Alec's apartment, exhausted and disorientated. Alec does his best to nurse the warlock back to health with a homemade stew. They talk of trust and their shared past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my commenters on the last chapter @Aquitaine, @gaydaractivate04, @SusanBones, @Cryptical_Marionette, @Autumn0309, @master_girl, and @Vallier. Your kind words mean the world to me!

Sunlight was streaming through ragged curtains, casting dappled light upon Magnus’s closed eyes.

As hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to open them quickly. Any other day, he would be sat up as soon as he woke, rushing off to move his people on to another safehouse, to smuggle some out of the state. The rest of the country was no better. The rest of the _world_ was no better, but as long as they kept moving, they might be able to stay alive a little longer.

This morning was different. His stomach ached a dull pain, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. The most he could do was roll his head to either side, twitch his fingers, groan in soft complaint when his eyes refused to open. Everything was so heavy, like a fog settled over his entire body, swarming around his muscles and into his throat.

“Magnus,” a voice murmured, a hand on his arm. “Don’t panic. It’s Alec. You’re in my apartment. You’re safe.” Fingers brushed into his hair. It was getting so long now; he desperately needed a haircut. “You’re okay. You were hurt, but you’re going to be okay. Take your time.”

Magnus’s lips parted in an effort to speak, but his mouth was so dry it was a miracle he could even _breathe_.

“I’m going to tilt your head up a bit so I can give you some water, okay?”

Magnus hummed his agreement. To anyone else, the water probably would have been lukewarm and a little metallic. To Magnus, it was the most wonderful thing that had ever passed his lips.

“Alec,” he gasped when the cup was taken away and he took a moment to breathe. His voice was hoarse and scratched his throat, but it didn’t matter. “Alec, how… how long…?”

“You’ve been unconscious for about seven hours now.”

Magnus blinked hard against the dizziness crowding his eyes. “I need to go,” he muttered, fought to find enough coordination to slide his hands up the mattress. “I need… Help me up… I—I have to…”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Alec soothed, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You need to take a few days to let yourself heal, okay? I know your magic lets you heal faster than mortals, especially when you have the cuffs on to internalise it, but you can’t be moving around right now.”

“My people…”

“Your people won’t gain anything from your death,” Alec reasoned. “Take a moment. Please. Rest for a moment.”

Magnus fell still again under his request. The dizziness was overwhelming him anyway, darkness crowding at the edges of his vision.

“Alec…”

“It’s okay,” Alec said, so far away now. Magnus tried to reach for him, for anything that can ground him in this darkness, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. “It’s alright. It’s safe to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Magnus’s muscles weakened and the darkness grew ever darker. He recognised unconsciousness as it stole him, but couldn’t find it in himself to fight. It had been so long since he felt at ease. He didn’t truly feel relaxed even now, even here with Alec. He still had to be careful. A life such as his didn’t allow the luxury of trust.

Still, he let the darkness take him. Alec’s fingers thread through his hair, fingers that could just as easily tighten around his throat and choke his life away. Alec had made a choice not to be that. The shadowhunter wouldn’t kill him, not after tending to him so dutifully.

Somehow it sounded ridiculous. A _shadowhunter_ who didn’t want to kill a downworlder. In this world, it was unheard of. He was so tired now, so tired of mistrust, of fighting, of being unable to let his guard down. But it was Alec. It was Alec and, as much as his rational mind was screaming at him that it could never work, Magnus wanted him.

They had kissed, but, aside from that, nothing else had happened. They never defined what it was they actually were. Magnus didn’t know what they could even hope to be. Hope didn’t exist anymore. Hope wasn’t real.

“Magnus…?”

His eyes opened straight away this time. On instinct, his head lurched up from the pillows, but a hand caught his shoulders and held him down.

“Steady, steady, it’s just me.”

Magnus hummed and blinked hard, staring up at the ceiling. “Sorry,” he muttered, his eyes drifting until they find Alec and his anxiety-furrowed brow. “’m good… How long’ve I been out…?”

“You’ve been unconscious about a day since you last woke… You remember that?”

Magnus nodded, turning his head a little so he can better take in the shadowhunter. It doesn’t feel like that long. It feels like seconds since they last spoke. Massive blood loss was difficult like that, Magnus supposed. The skin beneath Alec’s eyes was darker now, however. He hadn’t slept; Magnus could tell as much.

“How are you feeling?” Alec asked.

Magnus hummed and squinted up at the ceiling. “Aches a little.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I’m so fucking tired,” he sighed, turned his head against the pillows. “Thought you said I’d been unconscious for a full day.”

“It’s not the same as sleeping… When’s the last time you slept through the night?”

Magnus shook his head. “I don’t know... but you don’t need to worry about me. I know you’re a worrier.”

“And I’m not going to stop because of some half-assed spiel about me not worrying,” said Alec. “You were stabbed, Magnus. You could have died.” He breathed out slowly. “You need to eat something. You can sleep after I get some food in you, okay? Stay here.”

Magnus chuckled softly. “Like I’m going anywhere.”

Alec gave him a reproachful look, but said nothing.

The shadowhunter was back within ten minutes, bowl of stew in hand. He sat on the edge of the bed to help Magnus eat from it. It wasn’t good stew, but he ate as much as he could stomach. He didn’t know what was in it. He wondered if Alec used a recipe and somehow screwed it up tremendously or if he simply guessed at ingredients and made it from scratch.

When he turned his head away halfway through the bowl, Magnus blamed his nausea on the stab wound and blood loss rather than tell Alec of his mediocre cooking skills. The man had just saved his life after all.

“Are you sure you can’t manage a little more?”

Magnus shook his head. “Thank you, Alexander, but I just want to sleep now… I think I’ll be okay when I wake up.”

“You’d better be,” Alec said, though it was light and playful enough that Magnus smiled softly. He glanced to the drip of fluids, back to the door, and Magnus recognised that look in his eyes. “Look, Magnus, I—I know you don’t need to be watched all the time and I know you might not trust me, but—”

“You can stay if you want,” offered Magnus, narrowed his eyes when Alec’s gaze softened a little in relief, “and I’m sorry that I seem distrusting of you… The truth is I trust you more than anyone. I’m not sure I’ll ever fully trust anyone again, but… as much as I can, I trust you.”

Alec canted his head a little. “You really don’t think you’ll trust anyone again?”

Magnus closed his eyes, leaned his head to the side a little to rest against the pillows. “The world we live in is unforgiving, Alexander… The last man I trusted was cut down by a shadowhunter. He taught me never to trust the angel-blooded.”

“Ragnor cared about you,” said Alec. “He loved you.”

The words were unexpectedly deep and Magnus blinked up at him. “You didn’t know him…” he said confusedly.

“We spoke a little before…” Alec gave a soft shrug. It didn’t need to be said. “He loved you. He told me as much… You knew each another for such a long time. All he wanted was for you to be safe. He cared about you so much.”

Magnus shook his head, wishing for Alec to stop, but unable to voice it. Luckily, the shadowhunter seemed to understand. Alec didn’t speak anymore. Ragnor was a sensitive subject. Alec had been there for his death; he had been a comfort to Magnus after the warlock’s passing.

“I’ll let you sleep,” Alec uttered, taking the half-finished bowl of stew from the bedside table. “I’ll come back to check on you when I’ve cleaned this up, but… yell if you need anything.”

Magnus nodded. His eyelids were already heavy. He didn’t want to sleep just yet however; he forced himself to stay awake. “Alec,” he called softly after the shadowhunter, already halfway to the door, making Alec pause and look back at him. “Thank you… for everything.”

Alec just ducked his gaze, his eyes soft. “Get some sleep,” he said and left the door ajar behind him as he exited the room, leaving Magnus to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next time for a flashback chapter and find out what happened to Ragnor!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years ago, Magnus calls Alec at the institute, desperate for medical supplies. When Alec arrives, he meets Magnus's oldest friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my recent commenters: @gaydaractivate04, @jillyfae, @safedescent, @Aquitaine, @master_girl, @kbl55429 (for many comments!), @SusanBones, @Vallier, and @Autumn0309! I have a deep appreciation for each and every one of you and I love hearing your thoughts on how the story is progressing!

* * *

_Approximately Three Years Ago…_

* * *

“This new chamber thing is such a waste of time, don’t you think? I told dad as much and he says that Izzy’s ideas are just as good or important or whatever as mine are. I say just kill them when we find them. Saves time and hassle, y’know?”

Alec hummed absently, honestly sick to his stomach. He could chide his siblings, remind them about the mundane atrocities of the past, but it would do no good. He could talk about how they were instigating a downworlder holocaust until he was blue in the face, but no one would listen.

Isabelle’s chamber plan was a direct parallel to the mundane’s last great war and, if no one could see that, then they would never see anything. His sister had always seemed so indifferent to all of it, a direct middle ground between her brothers; a disinterest between Jace’s desire to kill and Alec’s desire to help. This new design for killing downworlders was barbaric.

Jace rambled on while Alec worked. The latest patrol to return had run into a hoard of shax demons and the black ichor was sticky as it was stubborn. It took considerable scrubbing to get off, but it was miles better than the alternative. Alec would take demon ichor over downworlder blood any day.

He was finishing up, polishing off the final blade, when his phone rang sharply from his pocket. Alec wiped his hands on a cloth and tossed it down with the rest of the cleaning supplies, dipping a hand into his pocket and unthinkingly accepting the call without checking for the ID.

“Hello?” he said as he brought the phone to his ear

“ _Are you alone?_ ”

This wasn’t the first time Magnus had called him at the institute, but Alec had been alone before. Magnus usually called him to warn him of downworlders coming to the apartment, or to request supplies. Alec had insisted. He had even done his apartment up as a kind of hostel for downworlders. It was small, but it was better than them sleeping in sewers or abandoned underground stations.

Alec glanced up to Jace, giving him an apologetic look. “It’s my landlord, sorry. Give me a minute.” Jace grumbled about him having an apartment, but was easily taken in by the lie, and Alec left, hurrying out of the weapons room and down into a secluded hallway. He lifted the phone back to his ear. “What’s wrong?”

“ _I need your help. I need medical supplies. Fluids, morphine, an IV line, a needle and thread, bandages if you have them. I’m sorry to do this, but I… I can’t move him._ ”

Alec swallowed and nodded. “Okay, just… where are you? I can bring them to you.”

“ _Red Storm three,_ ” Magnus said, coded as always. “ _As soon as you can. I’ll wait for you there._ ”

“I’m coming right now,” said Alec. “Be careful.”

“ _You too._ ”

Magnus cut off their call and Alec pocketed his phone once again. His heart was heavy. He had never heard Magnus sound like that before. The warlock was always so collected, so calm even though he faced death every single day and Alec admired him more than he could express. Something must be terribly wrong for him to sound so fearful.

Sneaking out supplies was easy when Alec was practically invisible. He slipped into an empty room of the medical wing, snatching up supplies as he went, searching for the things that Magnus had listed and shoving them into a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. From what Magnus had asked for, Alec could only assume someone had been badly wounded.

He just hoped that he made it in time.

* * *

The sewer grate that Magnus told him to meet at was in Red Hook, a storm drain that took some effort to remove. It was three alleys left from Magnus’s Red Hook safehouse. Alec had to take his stele and run it across his strength rune so he could shift it aside.

There was movement behind him, a dark blur, and a sliver of metal pressed to his throat. “Don’t move or I’ll open your throat and leave you to drown in your own blood,” a familiar voice warned, half a growl.

“Magnus,” Alec gasped and Magnus froze in place, pausing. “It’s me. It’s Alec.”

Magnus released him immediately and Alec stumbled away from him a little, rubbing his throat with a shaking hand. “I thought you were a guard!” Magnus hissed and Alec could hear the attempt to be angry was overwhelmed by relief. “Get down there before someone sees you!”

Alec climbed down into the pipe, his feet splashing in the water, submerging his legs to the knees and causing him to grimace softly, still unused to it even after all these times.

“Did you get the supplies?” Magnus asked as he climbed down, sliding the slotted drain cover back across the gap.

“Yeah, I got them,” said Alec, patting the satchel, his eyes on Magnus as the warlock gave the pipe a quick look around. “Everything you asked for. I got you some soap too, bottled water, to wash out the injury. Who’s hurt?”

Magnus gave him a grieved look, took a breath as he turned on him fully. “You shouldn’t come. Give me the supplies. I can manage. Follow the pipe down that way until you reach the next grate, then climb back up and go home.”

“I can help,” Alec insisted. “You can trust me, Magnus. Let me help you.”

The warlock gave him a look, one of soft uncertainty, but he said nothing further. He just turned and continued down the pipe, leading Alec further and further down the tunnel. They walk in silence and in darkness for a long time. Alec doesn’t dare to break the eery quiet, doesn’t comment on the fact that he had travelled all the way to Red Hook in the middle of the night when another drain would’ve been closer.

He understood Magnus’s distrust by now. Alec could’ve been followed. He could have been working against the downworlder in a long play. Alec wouldn’t dream of it, but he knew that—as leader and protector of the downworld—Magnus couldn’t afford to be trusting. He had to be suspicious if his people were to survive.

The water started to get deeper and, just when Alec was worried that they might have to swim, Magnus shifted in front of him, went to the side and hauled himself from the water. It was then that Alec realised that there was a ledge there, a dry platform, and he followed the warlock up onto it.

“It’s me,” Magnus called gently into the darkness. “It’s okay. Light the candles.”

Before Alec’s eyes, dozens of candles lit one after the other and sent a warm, if not dim, glow across the haphazard little camp. Downworlders huddled as close to the walls as they could get. Some of them had blankets. Many of them didn’t. A young boy came to light the fire in the centre, his eyes huge as he caught sight of Alec.

The group moved as one, though some shrunk back, and some scrambled up, drawing weapons and crouched low to defend those behind them.

“It’s alright!” Magnus said, hands held to calm them. “It’s alright. This is the one who has been dropping off supplies for us. He’s come to help. Trust me.”

Apparently, they knew better than to argue. The camp was relaxed again in seconds. Alec suspected it was in part due to the fact that most of them looked too exhausted to make another attempt at standing.

“Over here,” Magnus said and Alec turned to follow him to one side.

Magnus knelt there beside an older man, a hand coming to rest upon dark grey locks. Alec noted the horns at his hairline, deduced that this was a warlock like Magnus. There was an old moth-eaten blanket pressed in the space on his chest between shoulder and neck. The fabric was dark and shone strangely under the candle light.

Alec swallowed hard as he realised it was soaked in blood. The man seemed to be unconscious.

“What happened?” he asked and only had to look to Magnus’s face to gauge an answer. Of course. Shadowhunters.

“Ragnor,” Magnus coaxed, his attention back on the warlock now, touching his cheek to rouse him. His eyes were hazy, but they opened. “Ragnor, the shadowhunter I was telling you about—the good one—he’s here. He’s brought us some supplies. I can give you something for the pain while Cat fixes you up.”

Ragnor shook his head. “No,” he uttered, grasping Magnus’s hand and holding him in place. “No, my dear… It can go to better use with the others.”

Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “You’re in pain…”

“It won’t be for long,” said Ragnor, forced a weak smile when Magnus shook his head. “Come now, my friend… you are not that naïve… The damage is done. Such a wound from a Nephilim’s blade… surely you understand that I will not live for much longer. I know Catarina has told you.”

Magnus swallowed hard. “I don’t want you talking like that. Without you—”

“You will be fine,” Ragnor insisted. When he smiled, a bead of blood grew at the corner of his mouth, bursting to trail down his jaw. “You take such care of everyone… I will be glad to relieve your burden a little.”

Magnus said nothing for a long moment. He leaned forward to catch the droplet of blood on his thumb, wiping it from Ragnor’s pale skin. “I will carry you on my conscience for as long as I live,” he uttered. “You will bring me no relief, only pain.”

Ragnor huffed softly, blood misting his breath. “So morbid,” he said, a half-smile on his lips.

Magnus looked away from him and Alec was shocked to see his eyes were glossy, unshed tears making the cat eyes glow. He had never seen Magnus like this before. Ragnor must be very important to elicit such a reaction. Magnus was always so strong.

“If there’s anything _I_ can do…?” Alec began, trailing simply because he didn’t know how to finish.

“No,” Magnus said, not unkindly, wiping an absent hand to his eyes. “If he doesn’t want help, there’s no convincing him.” He gathered up the medical supplies. “I need to help Catarina see to the others. Stay with him, will you? Call for me if…”

He didn’t finish, merely shook his head and stood. Alec watched after him a moment, turning back to Ragnor when the warlock shifted to look at him. Dark eyes scanned him thoroughly and Alec had the distinct feeling he was somehow being x-rayed. He and Magnus had that look in common. Perhaps it was a warlock thing.

“He likes you,” Ragnor said finally, causing Alec to blink in surprise. “He trusts you… It’s a difficult thing to come by these days.”

Alec swallowed hard, unsure what the warlock was implying. “I’m just trying to help.”

Ragnor coughed, spluttering on the blood, and Alec was reaching for the cloth before he realised that Ragnor was… laughing. Or trying to at least. “Your people… have hunted us for centuries. I’m sure you have trophies up in your Institute. Warlock marks.”

Alec nodded grimly, thinking of his father’s office in particular. “Yes,” he admitted.

“I’m sure you’ve taken a few marks yourself.”

Ducking his gaze, Alec fought to stop his jaw from trembling. “I never took a mark, but I did… I’ve killed… but I’m different now. I’ve changed.”

Ragnor’s heavy eyes settled on his face. “Does Magnus know?”

Alec shrugged half-heartedly, fighting not to panic. “I—I don’t know. I think he assumes…”

“Be honest with him,” Ragnor suggested weakly. “He likes you… Don’t ever lie to him. He needs you to be honest… I think you’re good for him. He needs to trust someone…”

“Ragnor?” Alec asked, anxiety pricking his gut as he watched the warlock’s eyes roll and flutter. “Hey…”

“I love that boy,” Ragnor said, a little out of breath. It was strange to hear someone refer to Magnus like he was a juvenile. “Promise me… you won’t hurt him. I have to leave him, but I can’t let you… He’s just a child. I promised I’d keep him safe.”

Alec shook his head. “I swear to you, I’m not going to hurt him,” he said, anxiety pricking his chest because Magnus certainly was _not_ a child. The warlock must be getting delirious. “Listen, you’ve lost a lot of blood. I’m going to get Magnus for you, okay?”

“No,” Ragnor protested, his throat convulsing in a hard swallow, his eyes rolling fitfully. “No, he’s just a boy… You can’t let him see this. I care about him too much to allow him to witness such a thing… He shouldn’t have to suffer anymore heartbreak…” His dark eyes regained a hint of focus, a hand snapping to Alec’s wrist and holding him tight. “Don’t ever betray him.”

“I won’t,” said Alec firmly. “I’m not going to betray him. I just want to help. He’ll want to be with you.”

Ragnor’s eyes drifted, fixing on something over Alec’s shoulder, and pain crossed his expression again. “No, no,” he whispered, pleading almost as his eyes closed and he turned his head away. “No, don’t… don’t…”

There was movement in Alec’s peripheral and he glanced back just in time to see Magnus kneel there beside him. “It’s only me,” he said, pressing a hand to Ragnor’s cheek, clearly misunderstanding his delusions. “It’s okay. You don’t need to panic. It’s me.”

“I don’t want you to watch this,” Ragnor whispered, shook his head as much as he could manage. “I don’t want you to remember me like this…”

“Hush,” Magnus chided softly, his thumb absently smoothing across his fellow warlock’s cheekbone. “Don’t talk like that. I’m going to stay with you.”

It was a long night. Alec felt like an intruder by staying, but he knew he would feel worse if he abandoned Magnus and his people now. He felt obliged to stay. He felt a duty as he had never experienced before, one more righteous and just than anything a shadowhunter could teach him. The downworld were his people now. He had to protect them.

Ragnor died early that morning, succumbing to his wound. A fever had festered all night, his delusions growing worse with every passing hour. Magnus was holding his hand as he slipped away.

Alec sat with Magnus after it happened, shoulder-to-shoulder in silence, staring at the shape Ragnor’s body covered in a thin blanket. Magnus was shaking. Alec didn’t know if it was from grief or anger or simply the cold, but he shrugged his jacket off, wrapped it around the warlock’s shoulders. Magnus didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his tone shockingly calm. “You don’t have to stay. We’ll manage.”

“I know,” said Alec, “but I want to stay… Is that alright?”

Magnus pushed the heel of his palm to his eyes, breathing out slowly and shook his head as if scattering water. “He should be given a proper funeral… There isn’t time. It would draw too much attention… We don’t often get the bodies back. Shadowhunters like to take trophies.” He glanced to Alec, clearly hearing the bitterness in his own voice. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t partake in that.”

“No,” Alec agreed. “I’ve never taken a mark. Even when I was young, I thought it was… it was wrong. It felt wrong watching everyone else…” He closed his eyes, fighting to disperse the images in his mind of his fellow shadowhunters hacking marks from the dead. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.”

Magnus shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

Alec shook his head. “I want to do more,” he said, set a hesitant hand to Magnus’s wrist over his magic-repressing cuff, relieved when he didn’t flinch. “Please, I want to help. If there’s anything I can do…”

There was a moment of hesitation on Magnus’s part. “It’s dangerous,” he said, lifting golden eyes to Alec. “Don’t feel obliged to do it. I just… I want to know he’ll get a proper send-off, but I don’t want to put you in any more danger. It’s… It’s risky.”

“Name it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't panic about Izzy because I love her and she has some tricks up her sleeve that we'll get to see in the future!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon awakening, Magnus cooks dinner for Alec, a thank you for nursing him back to health. They spend the evening together, finding a rare moment of solace, a spark of light in their dark and unforgiving world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @Vallier, @g, @Cryptical_Marionette, @gaydaractivate04, @Aquitaine, @Autumn0309, and @master_girl for your wonderful comments on the last chapter. I treasure each and every one of your kind words!
> 
> Warnings for sexual content (fairly non-explicit)! It can be skipped if you don't want to read it; stop when you want and scroll down to "You're so beautiful" and you'll have successfully missed the sexy times!

* * *

_Present Day_

* * *

Alec woke with a gasp, his eyes snapping open.

The sight of flames still danced in his vision and he sat up, wearily pressing the heels of his palms against closed eyes, willing it away. He never forgot that night. He never forgot carrying Ragnor’s body to the docks, laying him down in a stolen canoe, sketching an invisibility rune before pushing him out to sea. He never forgot the sight of his arrow arcing through the sky, setting Ragnor’s body alight, the fire brighter than the dawning sun.

It had been Magnus’s first and only request of him; to have Ragnor’s funeral in traditional warlock fashion—in _ancient_ warlock fashion. It wasn’t all perfect, Alec was later to discover. Warlock funerals were complex and the dead were surrounded by flowers and letters from their loved ones, their spell book in both hands over their chest. Ragnor had a half-broken canoe and a shadowhunter’s arrow.

It was better than having his mark mounted somewhere in the institute.

The fire worked quickly and, by the time any alerted shadowhunters got to the docks, both Ragnor and the boat had been burned to ash and claimed by the sea. Alec too was long gone.

Now, in his apartment, the memory faded in favour of wakefulness. Alec pushed himself from the bed, raking a hand into his hair and donning his clothes from yesterday. He was in one of the spare rooms, having given Magnus his own to recover from his stab wound. There wasn’t a window in this room, so it took Alec getting out in the main room to see that it was still dark.

He checked in on Magnus briefly, wandering halfway into the room to see that, although the warlock was still sleeping, he was still breathing fine. His hair was strewn all across his face. Alec considered if Magnus would want a haircut at some point. It couldn’t be that hard, Alec could find a book or a tutorial or something.

He elected to leave it for now; prepare a little for next time Magnus dropped by. If he had time, maybe he would agree to Alec helping him out. Alec could learn to do hair. He could learn anything if it would help Magnus.

As late as it was—Alec read the clock as 01:39—his sleep schedule hadn’t exactly been regular lately, so Alec spent the next hour cleaning his apartment. It was a little bit of a mess. Magnus obviously hadn’t noticed; his stab wound was more prominent at that point.

The apartment was half decent when the bedroom door opened and Alec looked up from wiping down the coffee table. Magnus ran a hand into his hair as he exited the room, combing it back and to the side. He was holding a blanket around his shoulders like a cape with one hand, the other brushing through his hair.

“Do you have my hair tie?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s…” Alec began and frowned when he realised he didn’t remember where he’d put it. “Oh, uh… It probably got mixed up with your clothes. Let me check for you. God, you’ll want some clothes too, uh… yours are still drying, but you could… you could wear some of mine?”

“Oh, no need. I’m perfectly content with my blanket,” Magnus said with a soft smile, merely pushing his hair back. Dark locks hung ragged over half of his face. Alec decided not to mention it. They could talk about that next time.

By the Angel, Alec truly hoped there _was_ a next time.

“How are you feeling?” Alec settled on asking.

Magnus nodded, shifting the blanket aside and gently peeling back the bandage to reveal a scar dark upon his stomach. Alec was surprised to find it practically healed over. “Your stitches were a big help. Thank you. You have good hands.” Alec quirked an absent smile, watching Magnus go to the window, shift the curtain to peer out. “What time is it?”

“Too late to go anywhere,” said Alec, just wanting Magnus here for as long as possible. It was selfish. He knew that Magnus needed to leave; he just wanted the warlock to be safe, just for a little longer. “Do you want dinner?” Magnus hesitated. “I can make you something.”

The sheepish look the warlock cast gave Alec all the confirmation he needed. “I don’t mean to be rude,” said Magnus, so courteous despite this world they lived in. “Blood loss makes me nauseous.”

“My cooking makes everyone nauseous,” said Alec, waved a hand when Magnus tried to protest. “No, you don’t need to… Just, if you’re hungry then I can order some takeout.”

Magnus didn’t speak for a moment and Alec stifled a sigh. It wasn’t for Magnus; the sigh was disappointment at his own carelessness. Magnus and the others lived on takeout. Those of them who could get away with being seen in public brought back takeout food for the rest of them. Magnus must be sick of it by now.

“Please, don’t be polite at expense of your health or happiness,” he said. “Tell me what you want and I’ll figure something out.”

Magnus looked to him, his cat eyes glowing in the dim light of Alec’s apartment. “Will you let me cook for you?”

Alec blinked hard, the proposition so unexpected that, for a moment, he was the one struck with silence. “I… Uh, I don’t know if I’ll have everything you need.”

“I’ll manage,” Magnus said, already on his way to the kitchen. He tied his blanket around his chest and over his shoulders like a toga. “Consider it my way of saying thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Alec said, turning on the sofa so he could watch Magnus peruse his fridge and cupboards. He was so familiar with the apartment now that he needn’t ask where anything was.

Magnus didn’t reply to that, just gave him a soft look that made Alec’s heart burn with warmth. It felt… domestic almost, to have Magnus in his kitchen making dinner. It was a strange feeling, a strange _sight_. A shadowhunter on the sofa, a warlock in the kitchen, neither one trying to kill the other, just coexisting. It was unheard of. It felt right.

Dinner turned out to be a rice dish, a stir-fry of sorts that Magnus tossed together using whatever he could find in the kitchen, all manner of vegetables and short strips of beef and spices that gave the dish a mouth-watering scent and flavour. He gave Alec a bowl, sat beside him on the sofa with his own.

They ate mostly in silence.

“This is good,” was all Alec said, his mouth half-full, and Magnus gave him a fond kind of look.

They finished dinner quickly, both hungrier than they would have cared to admit. Within minutes, their empty bowls were side by side on the coffee table. Magnus looked to Alec, his eyes dark and soft with what the shadowhunter interpreted as contentment. He really did suit this kind of light, this dim glow from Alec’s energy efficient blubs. It cast the shadows softly across his face.

“I’m glad to see you,” said Magnus, “despite the circumstances of my being here… It’s good to sit with you like this.”

Alec nodded, struggling to focus on the words Magnus was saying rather than the movement of his lips forming them. “I’d rather see you in… better times… not stabbed.”

“Were it so.”

Alec looked to him, to the gold of his eyes and the press of his lips. “You sound like… like you’re from a different century… Sometimes you talk like it’s still the eighteen hundreds.”

Magnus tilted his head, the eye contact unwavering. “Is that a bad thing?”

Alec shook his head, pushed his tongue out to wet his lips. _That_ drew Magnus’s attention, gold irises flitting down a moment, lingering. “No,” Alec said and his heart was pounding and he didn’t know why. “I like it.”

There was a moment of almost perfect silence. The traffic outside was a dim lull; white noise. Alec worried that he might have said something wrong.

“Would you like it… if I were to kiss you right now?” Magnus asked, his eyes and his voice low.

Alec nodded. “Yes,” he said, breathless almost and his cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment.

Magnus just smiled at him, either not noticing his breathiness or good enough not to comment. His fingertips traced the deflect rune down Alec’s neck. His lips came soft and slow, just slightly open-mouthed. Alec lifted a hand to clench into Magnus’s shirt, savouring every second, never wanting to let go.

So, he didn’t.

Their mouths never broke all the way to the bedroom. It was a blur. Alec didn’t know what was happening, but he knew that he liked it. It took him too long to realise what they were doing—or what they were about to do. Magnus straddled his lap on the bed, kissing him fervently. Alec broke their lips.

“Magnus, wait,” he said, holding him back. He knew what he should say, knew he should tell Magnus that he was still a virgin, that he had no idea what he was doing. “Your wound…”

“Better now,” replied Magnus, stroking a stray lock of hair from Alec’s forehead. “It’s okay. We can stop if you want. It’s okay.”

Alec shook his head. “I don’t want to stop,” he said, taking Magnus’s hips and pushing him aside, rolling them so Alec was leaned over him. Magnus chuckled softly at the movement. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay with this. I… I’m a shadowhunter. You’re a warlock. This is… it’s…”

“It feels right… Long overdue,” Magnus whispered, clutching the back of Alec’s neck, leaning up to kiss him.

The movement caused Magnus to gasp softly and he let himself fall back onto the mattress, hissed in soft pain. Alec gently held him still. “Don’t overdo it,” he warned, kissed Magnus’s flared lips. “You’ve been through a lot... Let me take care of you now, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

Magnus huffed softly, but craned his head back to give Alec untethered access to his neck. “Should’ve seen me after the uprising. What a state I was in... this is nothing. A scratch.”

“Well, this scratch has stitches that I don’t want torn,” said Alec. “Which is why I’m going to be very—” he kissed Magnus’s neck to accentuate his point “—very gentle.”

Magnus gave him a crooked smile, but his throat bobbed in a thick swallow. “I’m not exactly the gentle type, Alexander. Takes a little fire to get me going.”

“We’ll see,” said Alec, lifted his head so Magnus could see his smile. “Just relax.” He kissed Magnus again, catching the warlock’s lower lip between his teeth and worried it gently before breathing his promise against Magnus’s stubbled chin. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Over those next few hours, he made good on that promise. The leader of the downworld came apart beneath his touch and in that singular, shining moment, he was Alec’s and nothing else. Their responsibilities fell away and Alec’s worries along with them. All those barriers keeping them apart crumbled and disappeared and they were together without shame.

Magnus’s blanket was quickly discarded to the floor. Alec’s clothes followed shortly after.

It took an hour of touching and teasing before Alec was pushing into him, giving in to his soft whispers. Magnus’s breath caught and exhaled in a sigh. Alec was determined to ensure it didn’t hurt. The warlock had seen enough pain over the course of his long life. Right now, Alec gave him pleasure.

“Alec,” Magnus whispered, a hand lifting to cradle the nape of his neck, his legs wrapped high around Alec’s waist.

“Is this okay?” Alec asked, slowly moving his hips.

Magnus swallowed hard and nodded, lifting his head a little so he could meet Alec’s eyes. “It’s good,” he said, pushed his fingers through Alec’s hair. “Kiss me.”

Alec did.

Magnus’s lips were soft and sweet and Alec never wanted to break the press of their lips. The sounds escaping from the warlock’s lips when they broke, however, were melodies in Alec’s ears. It was all soft moans and shaky breaths. Alec held him close, kissed his jaw and his neck. He was so worried about hurting him. He kept asking. He had to be sure.

“You’re not hurting me,” Magnus would whisper every time he would ask. “You could never hurt me, Alexander.”

Magnus himself held the side of Alec’s neck, covering his deflect rune with a splayed hand. Alec couldn’t help but assume that Magnus was trying to hide his shadowhunter qualities, to pretend that Alec wasn’t part of a race who had been slaughtering his people for centuries. For now, Alec could pretend with him. They could pretend that he wasn’t a shadowhunter, that he was a downworlder or even a mundane or really just anything but a Nephilim.

Being with Magnus like this was improbable and unthinkable and Alec never wanted to stop. He had wanted this for so long, dreamed of it, wished for it. Their first kiss had opened him to a world of new possibilities. A world where Magnus was his.

It was impossible. It was real.

When Magnus came, his fingers tightened in Alec’s hair, gasping out a breathless whine into his mouth. The heat spread between their stomachs and Alec was careful to be slow when he pulled out, laying a trail of kisses down the warlock’s sternum. Magnus blinked up at him as he unwrapped his legs from the shadowhunter’s waist, golden eyes dark in the dim light.

“You didn’t...”

“It’s okay,” Alec murmured, kissed him soft and open-mouthed. He wanted to kiss every inch of this wonderful man.

It was a little startling when Magnus’s hand wrapped around him, stroking him almost hesitantly. Alec couldn’t resist that. A moan rumbled low and he rocked his hips forward, pushed into Magnus’s hand. Their foreheads pressed hard together. It was mere seconds before he spilled himself onto Magnus’s chest.

A shaky gasp took his throat and he leaned back enough to look down at Magnus. “Sorry,” he uttered, but the warlock just shook his head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, clutching Alec’s hip with one hand while the other stroked the curve of his temple. “You are. You’re so gorgeous.”

Alec kissed him again, softer now, impossibly so. “Let me clean you up, okay?”

Magnus tried to protest the entire time, but Alec ignored him, wiped his chest with a damp washcloth. When they were both clean, Alec gently peeled back the bandage over Magnus’s injury. It was scarred over, but he pressed a new patch over it regardless. Once that was done, he dropped onto his side in the bed. Magnus turned his body to the shadowhunter, breathing him in.

“You’re good to me,” Alec murmured, his arm slipping beneath Magnus’s waist. “I don’t understand it.”

“You don’t understand?” Magnus asked softly, shifted with only a soft grunt to show his pain. Alec set a hand to his hip, his eyes narrowed in sympathy. “Alexander, you do so much for everyone else… Why is it so shocking that someone might want to show you kindness in return?”

Alec lifted his gaze to the warlock, drinking in his golden eyes. “That’s not how the world works…”

“It could be,” Magnus said. “Do you ever imagine what could have happened if a few people had just been a little kinder? Do you think about what the world could have been?”

Alec shook his head, a soft huff of disbelief taking his lips. “Did being stabbed give you some new kind of hope?”

Magnus hummed and let his head down to rest upon Alec’s shoulder, pressing gently into the side of his neck. “You need some work on your pillow talk,” he said and Alec felt him smile. “Maybe I just haven’t had sex for a while… Makes me wistful. The time before the uprising wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t… this.”

“Well, I haven’t had sex at all, so…”

That made Magnus lift his head, his eyes fixed on the young shadowhunter. “You’re a virgin?”

One of Alec’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, a little self-conscious now under Magnus’s surprised expression. “ _Was_ a virgin.”

Magnus gave him a soft smile. “Well, I’d never have guessed,” he said, leaning his head forward to kiss the underside of Alec’s jaw. “So gentle with me…”

Alec swallowed hard. “I want to stay with you... Would you mind if I slept here tonight?”

“Not at all,” Magnus said, his eyes staring at Alec, gold and gorgeous. “I’d welcome it.”

He tucked his head under Alec’s chin, their bodies pressed flush together beneath the duvet. Alec did what he had wanted to do since they had first kissed. Alec wrapped his arms around the leader of the downworld; this powerful, beautiful man who had seen so much hardship and heartbreak through the course of his long life. Alec held him.

Magnus fell asleep quickly, his muscles relaxing and his breath deepening. Alec didn’t care that his skin was sticky with dirt and sweat or that his hair was tangled and greasy. He didn’t care; he would fix it if he could—if Magnus would ever allow him—but, for now, the warlock was here in his arms.

That was enough. More than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick updates are a norm with this one because I am in love with this fic and I cannot stop writing!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Alec offers him a kindness that has been a long time coming, Magnus has to face the fact that, despite everything Alec has done for him, he still has problems with trusting a shadowhunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @AutumnsRed, @gaydaractivate04, @Aquitaine, @Smallgirl24, and @Vallier for your recent comments! It means so much to me that other people are enjoying reading this fic because I love writing it!

Magnus thought of Alec often when they were apart, and they were apart more than they were together.

That night, weeks ago now, when Alec had nursed him back to health after a shadowhunter attack, when they had been together in ways that Magnus hadn’t experienced for so long now and that Alec hadn’t experienced apparently ever; that night and the memory of it set his heart alight. It was humbling and elevating and it fuelled his fight every day for the next few weeks.

When he was sleeping in alleyways or in sewers—the latter of which he was in tonight—he would stare up at the gap between the buildings or the grate in the pavement and he would think of the shadowhunter. Alec had done so much for him, for the downworld, and at such great risk to himself.

Alec’s father was head of the New York Institute. If he discovered treachery, even that of his son, he would not hesitate to sentence the one responsible to the guard. Alec would be classified a traitor and sentenced to death. Execution at the guard was not something Magnus wished upon anyone.

He dreamed about it sometimes. He dreamed of Alec in chains, of Alec in red, of the silent brother casting flame upon him, burning him to ash. He dreamed of Alec’s dying screams echoing a snowy courtyard. He would wake in a panic of gasps with sweat trailing his skin.

“You’ve been dreaming about that boy again, haven’t you?”

Magnus shook his head slowly, staring up at the grate in the pavement.

They were gathered in one of Magnus’s many hideouts dotted all over the city, a little encampment in an abandoned sewer pipe near the river. It was a clutter of hastily laid out sleeping bags and little fires at the bottom of a very long ladder. It was mainly warlock’s this time, although there were a few wolves with them too.

It was Catarina beside him, bathed in moonlight from the overhead grate. It was her who had questioned him.

“I heard you crying out in your sleep.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Magnus uttered, not wishing to talk about this any more than he has to. “It was a dream. Nothing more… He’s a shadowhunter. He can look after himself.”

“But you care about him,” Catarina insisted, tilted her head.

Magnus breathed out slowly. “He’s been consistently helpful to us for the past five years. He risks his life every day so that some of us might live a little longer. He’s never once shown signs of discrimination or ill intent despite his upbringing.” He turned to his friend. “It’s difficult not to admire him after seeing all that.”

Catarina tilted her head. “Are you going to see him on your way out of the city?”

“His apartment is conveniently placed.”

His fellow warlock hummed, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. Magnus gave her a look, but said nothing. It didn’t need to be said. They both knew he was lying, or at least playing down how involved Alec was in his life. Magnus hadn’t told her of his desires or his wants, or even that they came to fruition with Alec mere weeks ago, but she could sense it regardless. She knew something was different about him now.

“You heard about those wolves living wild up in Canada?” Catarina asked, tactfully changing the subject. “Might be something to think about.”

Magnus shook his head. “I’m not going to Canada.”

“It might be safer.”

“We’d never make it out, Cat,” Magnus said, glanced to her with heavy eyes. “The shadowhunter’s runic warding will alert them. Please, don’t tempt me into a failed escape. The last was too much to witness. We lost hundreds of our people in a single night.”

“You don’t need to remind me—”

“Then stop asking,” Magnus said bluntly, so tired and not in the mood to discuss the promise of an intangible freedom.

Catarina watched him a moment before departing to the others, barely metres away from them. The camp was hushed and quiet. Those who could sleep did so. Those who couldn’t had no energy for a conversation.

Magnus breathed out slowly, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, fighting to quash the memories clawing their way to the front of his mind. Their promise of another haven, a tale told almost two decades ago now, had ensured that dozens of downworlders attempted to flee New York. The shadowhunters had massacred them at the docks; the runic power there was strong enough to alert them to even repressed magic.

Magnus had learned his lesson. Large groups could not leave the country, and children of greater demons, alphas, clan leaders, they couldn’t leave their respective states without alerting the shadowhunters. They gave off a different energy than the others, one that couldn’t be hidden from the runic work at the borders. Magnus blamed himself for the massacre. He would do so until his death.

Sometimes Magnus smuggled some stragglers to the border, sometimes he met downworlders who came to New York, but it was rare that he could step foot over the state line. He only did it if absolutely necessary and he never got away with it without a fight. Catarina could leave the state if she wished, but she wouldn’t go without him. Many of the downworlders were too scared to attempt an escape. Many of them knew that it wouldn’t be an improvement on the outside.

It was safer to stay and hide.

The shadowhunters had bent the ley lines to their will, flooding it with angelic energy. It was how they tracked downworlder powers. It was why Magnus could never remove his repressing cuff, why a werewolf could never transform, why a vampire could never show their fangs, why the few remaining seelies—the ones who were left behind when their queen sealed her realm—could never commune with nature. Anything that set them apart as demon-blooded, it all set off the warding.

Magnus closed his eyes against the moonlight filtering in from the grate.

He missed Alec. Every haunted memory of death and blood, they had all ceased when he was in Alec’s arms, as if the world had paused for them. Tears rushed Magnus’s eyes to think of it now and he pushed them back with the heel of his palm.

It was wrong of him to long for a shadowhunter’s embrace while his people suffered. It was wrong of him to want to be with Alec right now. It was wrong of him to take his phone out, to shoot Alec a text with a query as to whether he might make a stop on his way out of the city.

It was wrong of him to smile when he received Alec’s reply. There wasn’t much to smile about nowadays. He shouldn’t feel guilty for finding what little joy he could in this world. It didn’t stop him from feeling it. He was responsible for hundreds of downworlders.

Guilt was an occupational hazard.

* * *

Magnus rapped on the door of Alec’s apartment as soon as it got dark. Shadowhunters patrolled day and night, but at least at this time Alec would be home. The door opened within seconds and Alec was opening it wide to let him in. He was dressed down in a grey t-shirt and black joggers. He smiled when he saw that it was Magnus.

“Hey,” Alec said, giving the corridor a quick look as he always did before closing the door behind him. “I have an offer for you.”

“Well, hello to you too,” Magnus uttered, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it upon a row of hooks by the door.

Alec shook his head, apology bright in his eyes. “I’m sorry, that was… that was abrupt considering…”

He didn’t finish, but it didn’t need to be said. They both knew he was referring to the night they had spent together, weeks past now. It wasn’t just a night to Magnus. It was him relinquishing control, placing his life and his love in Alec’s hands, _trusting_ him. It was such a difficult thing to come by. With Alec, it happened so naturally.

It felt natural now when the shadowhunter came close, his hands falling to Magnus’s waist, pressing a soft, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. Still, it made Magnus blink hard and stare at him when it broke. It was unnatural to be so natural. It felt _wrong_ for something to feel so right.

Alec lifted a hand to touch his lips, pulling away. “God, I’m sorry, I thought… Well, I—I just thought you seemed a little put out about me glossing over what happened with—with us—”

“Hush,” Magnus chided, reaching out and gently taking his hand. “You took me by surprise, that’s all… A nice surprise.” Alec flushed, ducked his gaze, and Magnus gave him a soft smile. “Tell me about this offer then. Sounds interesting. Intriguing.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I said it like that,” said Alec, chuckling a little awkwardly and rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’ve been watching some tutorials on YouTube and I’m pretty sure I understand the basic technique.” He hesitated, swallowed hard. “If you want then I can cut your hair.”

Magnus blinked up at him. That was not what he had been expecting; truthfully, he didn’t _know_ what he had been expecting. “A haircut?”

Alec nodded. “Yeah, I… I don’t mean it to sound like it probably does. I just… When we first met, your hair was shorter. You have to push it back a lot and I hear you mutter about it sometimes.”

“I never mutter.”

Alec shrugged, seeming a little sheepish now, his gaze falling to his feet. “You mutter in Indonesian. You say it so often that I picked up on the words and put them into a translator app on my phone. It said it was Indonesian. Said it was you complaining about how long your hair is.”

Magnus looked at him with a softly tilted head. “Ragnor used to complain about me speaking Indonesian.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t speak it, so he couldn’t understand what I was saying.” Magnus took a breath, not wishing to speak of dead friends. “I think it might be good for me… to get my hair cut.”

“Yeah?” Alec asked and his eyes are brighter now, less anxious.

Magnus nodded. “Yes,” he agreed.

Alec smiled at him and, god, no matter how this turned out, it would be worth it just for that smile. “Great,” he said and Magnus had never heard him so optimistic. “Well, come on, let me get you a chair out and I’ll… I’ll cut your hair however you want.”

Magnus nodded, followed Alec into the main room, sat in the chair that the shadowhunter pulled out for him. Alec instructed him to wait and Magnus did so, watching the shadowhunter hurry off to his bedroom, returning with a hand held black case. He unzippered it on the table, took out a razor and scissors, a comb and several different gradients.

“Well, you seem very prepared,” Magnus said, shifted on the chair, apprehension tight in his stomach to see sharpened objects so close to him.

Alec smiled absently. “Relax. I’ve done my own a hundred times.”

“Why does that not reassure me?” Magnus teased, fighting to hide the instinctive panic flaring his chest when Alec picked out the scissors.

“Don’t get snarky with the guy deciding on your hairstyle.”

The scissors caught the light as Alec brought them up, the sharpened edges shining in the dim lighting of the apartment, and Magnus flinched. It was soft and quickly halted, but apparently didn’t go unnoticed because Alec stopped immediately. It would’ve been so much easier if Alec just didn’t notice.

“Hey,” the shadowhunter said, placing them down again, slower this time. “If you want me to stop, just say so, okay? Don’t rely on me looking out for some half-suppressed tic.”

Magnus shook his head, closing his eyes. “I’m just not... I’m not overly enthusiastic about having sharp things near my face. I... I think I still have some problems with trust.”

Magnus hoped he wasn’t offended by that and the way that Alec clicked his tongue was more reassuring than anything else. Magnus had been through so much pain. He tried to convince himself that it was only natural that he couldn’t easily trust another person, a shadowhunter especially, even with something as simple as cutting his hair.

“Hey, how about I start with shaving the back and sides and you can have a think about whether you’d be comfortable with scissors? That sound okay?”

Magnus hesitated a second before he nodded.

Alec let him pick out a gradient and, once it was chosen, Magnus watched him clip it onto the shaver, sitting very still while Alec made quick work of the back and sides. Even that seemed like a lot of hair gone. He held up a mirror for Magnus inspect it before he broached the idea of scissors again.

The warlock nodded.

“Are you sure, Magnus? You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Magnus said in reply, looked up at him. “I want to trust you, Alec. I’m trying.”

Alec shook his head. “You don’t have to explain,” he said. “Just… tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable. We can stop whenever you need to.”

Magnus nodded. “I’m just going to… close my eyes, just… if you could keep talking. Please.”

“Of course,” Alec said, stroked a gentle hand into Magnus’s hair as his eyes closed. “What’d you want me to talk about?”

“Something good,” Magnus said, clenched his hands into fists on his lap as he heard the scissors close, felt a lock of hair fall away.

“Something good,” Alec mused slowly, cutting another lock of hair. “How about… the last time we were together?”

Magnus had to smile despite himself. It surprised him that Alec would dwell on that so much. He hadn’t realised how special it had been to the shadowhunter. He supposed it _was_ Alec’s first time. Magnus might have had a dry spell, but Alec had _never_ done anything even remotely close to their time together. Magnus had never been so certain of anything, so calm.

Now, he was practically shaking. It was so hard to trust someone like this, even with something as simple as a haircut. It was the sharpness of the scissors. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t trust Alec. The shadowhunter had been nothing but good to him.

“You don’t have anything between the gap?”

“I’m a shadowhunter,” said Alec softly through another cut. “The downworld is the only good thing I have in my life… and you are the best… So, no, I’m sorry, I don’t have any positive stories for you that aren’t downworlder related.”

Magnus hummed his absent interest, feeling that his hands were shaking despite how tightly he held them in fists. He had to focus on not spiralling into panic. There was a sharp object inches from his head, held by a shadowhunter. Every part of that was screaming at him to run, to fight.

His fingernails were pressed hard against his palms.

“Oh, okay, how about this? Those two vampires turned up here again last week and drank four pouches of O negative between them,” said Alec. “Simon and, uh… Rafe, is it?”

“Raphael,” Magnus corrected, the _snip, snip, snip_ of scissors relentless in his ears. “No one calls him Rafe.”

“Well, Simon does, apparently,” Alec uttered. “They seem very close.”

Magnus breathed out in soft amusement. Alec might be prudish at times— though Magnus was finding it less and less nowadays—but he was certainly observant. “They’re children.”

“They’re vampires though, so they’re probably hundreds of years old.”

Magnus’s brow furrowed; Alec has a strange view of immortals. “Raphael is almost ninety,” said Magnus. “Simon is eighteen.”

Alec took pause at that. “Eighteen?” he asked in clearly feigned nonchalance. “But that would mean…”

“A vampire turned him barely a year ago,” Magnus said. “She was a fanatic. She sired vampires to raise an army against the clave. She was killed by shadowhunters before she could see her children slaughtered in her insane attempt at a revolution. Simon had to adapt to our world very quickly.”

Alec hummed softly. “Well, it seems like he’s doing okay.”

“He’s stronger than he knows,” Magnus said and Alec ran a hand through his hair. The scissors snipped again. Magnus’s nails dug harder into his palms. “Are you almost done?”

“Nearly. Are you okay?”

Magnus swallowed hard, fighting the urge to bite the inside of his cheek. “I’m fine.”

Alec was quiet a moment, a thoughtful silence. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his soft, assuring words covering another cut. “I’m just doing whatever I can to help. You can tell me to stop whenever you need to and I’ll listen. I don’t have my weapons on me.”

Magnus knew what he was doing and, by god, did his heart swell with warmth. Alec was saying everything that a shadowhunter never would. He was giving assurance, reminding Magnus that it was _him_ ; it was Alec and Alec wasn’t like the others. Alec would never hurt him.

“I understand why you can’t trust anyone and that’s okay,” Alec said. “I need you to know that it’s okay. You’ve been through so much. You’re a good person, Magnus; the best I’ve ever met.”

Those words were unexpected as they were welcome, and Magnus swallowed hard to force the lump back from his throat. “Bet you say that to all the guys,” he teased, though he could hear in his voice that it was strained.

“We’ve established that I’ve never had a _guy_ ,” Alec chuckled, “until you, of course.” He brushed a hand into Magnus’s hair. “And I think we’re done. Here.”

He held up a mirror for Magnus to see and, for a moment, the warlock could do nothing but stare. He looked just as he had five years ago when he and Alec had first met. The past was staring at him. It was a strange sight, frightening almost. He didn’t have Alec back when he looked like this.

“Magnus,” Alec said gently, letting him hold the mirror when Magnus clutched it in both hands. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Magnus began and looked to Alec. “I look like I used to… before we met.”

“Well… you also looked like this _when_ we met,” Alec said, crouched beside the chair and gazed up at him. “And… despite all the circumstances surrounding it, I count myself lucky that we did.” He offered a soft smile. “Now you don’t have to tie it back at least. It’ll be easier to manage.” He shrugged one shoulder. “And you look good.”

Magnus blinked softly at him, resting the mirror on his lap. “You do good work.”

“Okay, I was trying to compliment _you_ ,” Alec said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. He lifted his gaze to Magnus, brushed strands of cut hair from his shoulder. “I’m going to run you a shower, okay? We can wash that hair off you.”

“We?” Magnus asked and Alec’s cheeks flushed a perfect pink.

“Well, I… I just…”

Magnus pressed a hand to his cheek, giving him a soft smile. “Hey,” he coaxed and Alec looked up at him. “’We’ sounds good.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As misguided and cruel as shadowhunters are, Magnus knows that they are right about one thing: emotions cloud judgement. Right now, his emotions are with Alec Lightwood. If Magnus is to protect his people, he knows that he must be clear about the nature of his and Alec's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my recent commenters: @jillyfae, @master_girl, @Vallier, @Aquitaine, @Autumn0309!
> 
> This story was starting to feel a little slow so I'm injecting some angst. Everything will be fine in the end, don't worry! I just needed to switch it up a little.

Alec’s bathroom was small and lacking proper ventilation, but Magnus hadn’t so much as seen a shower in weeks and—if it weren’t for Alec—it would’ve been the most beautiful thing in the room. It was a rain shower, like the one Magnus used to have so long ago now.

Before the uprising, he had a gorgeous bathroom, a rain shower, a clawfoot bathtub—a lavish thing he had for decades. He would fill the water as far as it would go before the bubbles started spilling over. It was so hot, it would burn when he sunk in, but it didn’t matter. His magic protected him from all harm.

He hadn’t been back there in years. He likely never would again. The shadowhunters knew it belonged to him.

The sound of running water brought him back. Alec had turned on the shower for him.

“Magnus,” the shadowhunter uttered and Magnus glanced to him, concealing his amusement at the young man’s blush. “Are you gonna be okay? I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

“Oh, you’re not backing out now, are you?” teased Magnus, hands lifting to unbutton his shirt. “You said ‘we’.”

Alec hummed and averted his gaze as Magnus slipped out of his shirt. The warlock discarded it to the floor, lowered his hands to work his belt loose and Alec cast his gaze downward. “I should give you some privacy,” he said. Magnus wondered if that flush to his cheeks would ever cease.

“You’ve seen me naked before,” he reminded the shadowhunter, toeing his way from his jeans.

Clearing his throat softly, Alec anxiously palmed the nape of his neck, a trait that Magnus was more than used to by now. “Do you want me to put your jewellery somewhere?” he asked, very determinedly trying to change the subject and trying not to look at Magnus’s body.

Magnus smiled at that. It was a sweet gesture, but unnecessary. “Come here,” Magnus requested gently instead of answering, pulling Alec close by his hand. “Take off your clothes.”

Alec did as he was told, shedding his jacket and unzipping his jeans. Magnus helped him with his shirt, deft fingers releasing the buttons, warm hands parting the fabric over his chest and pushing it away. One moment, their eyes were locking and holding. The other, their lips were meeting with fevered eagerness, parting with breathy gasps and cycling back again.

Magnus pulled him forward, a hand behind him to slide the door of Alec’s shower open. The hot water hit with a slight burn and they broke apart. Alec dropped his forehead to Magnus’s own. They watched the dirt and dried blood wash from him and pool in swirls of brown and red at their feet.

It sobered them both, the mood changing abruptly.

“I slept in a sewer last night,” Magnus said in apologetic explanation, following his eyes down.

“It’s okay,” Alec replied and ran a hand into Magnus’s hair. “Let me take care of you.”

That was exactly what he did. He lathered his hands in shampoo, thread his fingers through the warlock’s hair, instructing him to close his eyes, to tilt his head forward so he could wash the dirt and the grease from his trimmed locks. Stray strands of hair were washed off with the browning foam from where Alec had cut it.

He did it again, washed Magnus’s hair through and the warlock pushed the short locks back from his face, taking over from Alec’s hands, letting the water and foam trail down his back. Alec’s palm flattened over the necklaces upon Magnus’s chest. Magnus dropped his forehead against Alec’s own.

“I miss you when we’re apart,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the rush of water, though he dare not speak any louder lest he risk his voice trembling. “I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Alec asked, stroking a hand into his hair. Water dripped off the tip of his nose. “I miss _you_.”

Magnus shook his head. “You’re a shadowhunter.”

That, apparently, was untactful. Alec leaned back, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said, his brow furrowed in disapproval. “You can’t miss me because I’m… me? I didn’t ask to be a shadowhunter, Magnus. I would give anything not to be who I am.”

“Alec,” Magnus uttered to gently cut him off, narrowing his eyes in sympathy. “You know what we are… and you know what we can never be. You’re a shadowhunter, Alexander. I’m a warlock. Regardless of what we feel… neither of us can change that.” He clicked his tongue when Alec’s frown deepened. He needed to say this. “My people will come first, always… If I loved you, then you would always be my first priority, but I can’t give you that, Alec. I’m sorry.”

“Magnus, that doesn’t mean that our feelings aren’t real,” said Alec. “The fact that you put your people above everything is the reason that I…” He faltered, swallowed hard. “It’s the reason I care about you so much. It's the reason I admire you more than anyone I've ever met.”

Shaking his head, Magnus pressed his hand to Alec’s cheek, combing wet hair back from his face. “Admiration doesn’t warrant love, Alexander.”

Alec blinked hard. “I don’t think _I’m_ the issue here,” he said, though his voice was more sad than accusatory. The realisation dawning in his eyes was the most heart wrenching thing. “You don’t love me.”

“I can’t,” Magnus admitted softly, held Alec when he tired to turn away. “Alexander, please understand… There are many things I must cast aside in favour of protecting my people. There are many luxuries that I cannot afford because of my circumstances. Love is just something that I must deny myself.”

Alec prised Magnus’s hand from his arm. “It isn’t fair that you have to give up your happiness for your safety,” he said, barely a whisper, “but I understand.”

“Alec,” Magnus uttered, but let him go.

The shadowhunter slid the glass door open, stepped out from the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist, pushing dark, wet locks back from his forehead. Beads of water glistened on his chest and he had never looking more stunning, but his eyes were sad as he met Magnus’s own.

“Finish your shower. Do you want dinner?”

“No, Alec, I—”

“Then you can let yourself out.”

It was a fight he wouldn’t win. Alec closed the bathroom door behind him and Magnus sighed, sliding the shower shut once again. It had to be done, Magnus knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier. He wished he could have convinced Alec to hear him out, to get a chance to explain himself properly. They were moving too quickly and Magnus needed to make everything clear, needed to put a stop to Alec’s emotions as well as his own.

He could not afford to be in love. Love was weakness in this world. Love made people take risks, and risks were not something that he could abide. Risks led to death. Magnus didn’t want to die, but—much more importantly—he didn’t want _Alec_ to die.

The magic was burning his blood and Magnus sucked in a deep breath. Before the uprising, he would have released it, exploded something with simple rage, but his repressing cuffs made that impossible now. He raked a frustrated hand into his hair. The lack of magic pushed tears to his eyes, his grief taking lead on his anger.

He didn’t have a choice. He had to keep believing that or everything would fall apart. He had to put his people first and, as much as he loathed to admit it, Catarina was right. He cared for Alec. If he kept making excuses to be with him, then he would forget what was most important. He would forget that his people must come first no matter what.

If that meant letting Alec go, then so be it. The shadowhunter had an alliance with the downworld, but he and Magnus could be nothing more than that, than allies.

Tears burned hotter than the water raining from the shower. It hurt his eyes and brought a lump to his throat and Magnus remembered how much he hated crying. Shadowhunters may be flawed and cruel, but they were right about one thing: emotion clouds judgement. Magnus’s judgement must remain unimpeached. Every decision he made must be for the good of the downworld.

If there was even a chance of Alec clouding his judgement, then he couldn’t be someone that Magnus was involved with. They could never be together.

The water poured down until condensation ran down the shower walls. Magnus’s skin burned from scrubbing himself clean, but the dirt and the sweat was gone from his skin. The hot water came cleansing now. Magnus hadn’t been clean like this in months. It was a shame to have such a moment tainted with confessions of his lack of love.

When Magnus dried and dressed himself and returned to the main room, Alec wasn’t there waiting for him. Magnus guessed he was in his room. He wouldn’t want to see Magnus again, not after what the warlock had said to him. Magnus went to the door, pausing halfway out, lingering in his grief.

Glancing back to the apartment, he saw just how empty it was, how distinctly lacking in life. Sorrow seeped from the walls. It was unavoidable. His lies could have saved Alec’s life. Emotions clouding judgement went both ways.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispered into the loneliness of that apartment. “Alexander, I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this was short. I'm making up for it in the next one, trust me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months after Magnus chose duty over love, Alec’s daily life is turned upside down when the warlock falls to capture by his fellow shadowhunters and falls victim to their darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG thank you to my recent commenters: @Autumn0309, @PhoenixStar73, @gaydaractivate04, @MrsGibbs87, @Adaline_Blooms, @master_girl, @Vallier!
> 
> Got a long chapter for you today to make up for the shorter one last time!

Alec threw the knife into the nearest wall, watching with bitter satisfaction as it stuck there with a heavy thump.

He was halfway through cleaning up from the last hunt. Downworlder blood stained his hands as much as it stained the weapons he was tasked with cleaning. He despaired to think of the people whose blood he was cleaning away. All he could do was hope that they were killed quickly.

It had been months now since he had seen Magnus, since the warlock had broken his heart with his duty. Alec had said that he understood. That didn’t mean it hurt any less. Understanding and accepting something didn’t make it easy to live with. If anything, it made it harder.

Alec may have preferred Magnus to be unreasonable, to be selfish or even cruel. It would be easier if Alec could hate him, but it simply wasn’t possible. Magnus was the best person he knew and that selflessness of giving Alec up, it just made him even more admirable. His _damned_ sense of duty was what doomed them.

Huffing his irritation, Alec went to the knife, wrenched it from the wall and promptly threw it back into the pile when he heard a commotion from out in the Ops Centre. His heart sunk, simply because he knew that only a captured downworlder could cause such jubilance from his fellow shadowhunters.

He pushed open the door of the weapons room to a scene that he wished never to see. If his heart had sunk before, it must now have been as deep as it could go. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t fair. He had to force himself to breathe.

Jace was tugging a downworlder across the room, Robert Lightwood at his side. His brother grinned when he saw Alec, making a beeline for him. The warlock behind him was pulled harshly forward with every step, chains tight and unyielding around his torso, binding his arms together in front of him. Gold eyes lifted to Alec’s, giving nothing away.

“Ah, Alec,” his father greeted, a disdain in his voice that Alec was used to hearing by now. “Look at what Jace has brought us.”

Alec forced himself to look at Magnus, to meet the golden cat’s eyes, to survey the chains binding his arms together. He hated that they must meet like this, especially after the way they left things. “Maybe the chains are a bit of an overkill,” he muttered, forcing himself to remain nonchalant. “It’s just one warlock.”

“It’s Magnus Bane,” Jace said, his tone haughty and proud and Alec bit the inside of his cheek. “The idiot was trying to free some warlocks we had chained up. Guess he wasn’t banking on it being a trap.”

“I was banking on shadowhunters being barbaric,” Magnus snarled, fought to lunge at Jace and receiving a backhanded slap for his troubles. Alec fought back a wince.

Jace curled his lip. “Control yourself, animal.”

Magnus’s teeth bared in something akin to a snarl. “You want to see an animal? You slaughtered my people!”

“Oh, your _people_ were simply a means to capture you... and trust me, you’ll get a chance to show everyone how feral you are,” Jace said and Alec can’t believe he once seriously considered becoming this man’s parabatai. The Clave has shaped them all into monsters. Alec will spend the rest of his life redeeming himself for his past actions with them. “You wanna help, Alec?”

Alec tilted his head. “How could I say no?”

He would give anything to say no.

Jace grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, but Robert scrunched his nose up in disapproval. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “With Alec there, something is bound to go wrong. I’m afraid my son is a magnet for bad luck and incompetence.” He tossed his head towards the weapons room. “Go clean something.”

Alec ducked his head. “Yes, father.”

Magnus growled behind him, chains rattling as he was dragged away. Maybe there was some animal in him. That didn’t mean he deserved to be treated like this. In his mind, Alec was already making plans. Secrecy be damned, he would _not_ let them take Magnus to the Gard.

If he knew his father—and he did—then Robert would do a big showy presentation of Magnus, let everyone see what his favourite child had accomplished, likely do something humiliating and hateful and hurt Magnus awfully. Alec didn’t have a choice. He would have to stage a rescue.

An hour into plotting, into cleaning the endless pile of weapons that were dumped on his table, Alec heard a shout from outside, an order for everyone to gather in the courtyard, and he knew that he would rather do anything than see what was about to happen. Still, he had no choice when Jace came in and beckoned him frantically.

“Come on; they’re bringing the warlock out.”

Alec hummed a feigned nonchalance and wiped his hands on a bloodstained cloth, tossing it to the pile of uncleaned weapons. “How long’s this thing gonna be? I would’ve thought that dad would want to take him to the Gard.”

“No, he’s determined that it take some lashes before going to the Gard. He’ll probably leave it there overnight, let it all sink in, y’know. This is a big one here. Dad has to make a spectacle of it”

Alec’s heart weighed heavy in his chest. “Lashes,” he repeated.

“Don’t be a killjoy, Alec.”

Jace led him out into the courtyard where the rest of the institute were gathered around the wooden platform in the centre. There were three posts erected there, metal rings bolted on each of them. When they got there, Magnus was already being dragged up the ramp, chains tight around his wrists, tugged harshly every other step, making him stumble and fall.

Shadowhunters jeered and laughed at him and Alec couldn’t even pretend to be one of them right now. He couldn’t pretend to enjoy seeing Magnus like that. He would sooner trade places with him that watch it happen. If he could, he would. He would do anything to stop this. An outburst right now wouldn’t help anyone, however. The best he could do for Magnus was get him out under cover of darkness.

The shadowhunter pulling Magnus chained his wrists to the metal ring of the central post, taking a leather whip from his belt, flourishing it absently as he stalked a circle around the warlock. Magnus glared at him with golden eyes, baring his teeth in something akin to a snarl. Words made no difference with shadowhunters, Alec knew that as well as he did.

The whip struck Magnus’s back and Alec had to force himself not to flinch, simply breathing out slowly and silently through his nose. The warlock gritted his teeth, but didn’t scream. It struck him again and again, picking up speed and strength when the one wielding it became irritated with a lack of reaction. Magnus’s face was hidden by his arms now.

Blood was leaking down Magnus’s back, rushing from long lacerations in his flesh. Head lifting, golden eyes scanned the crowd of jeering shadowhunters, coming to falter upon Alec’s own. Eyelids flickered in a flinch of anguish. Alec bit his lower lip, breathed the tears back from his eyes.

The chains pulled taut around his wrists, Magnus’s back arching in, fighting to free himself from his shackles and his pain. The skin was fraying and tearing at his wrists. Alec forced himself to stay and watch. Even if it didn’t mean much, he needed to be here for Magnus, just so there was one person in this building who wasn’t enjoying this.

He couldn’t abandon the warlock now, not after everything they had been through.

Blood was trailing from Magnus’s mouth when the man with the whip finally ceased. Apparently, he had bitten into his tongue or his cheeks rather than give the shadowhunters the satisfaction of his screams. His eyes were low and dark and Alec fought to conceal his panic once he realised that the warlock was losing consciousness.

Someone yelled at the crowd to get back to work. It sounded like his father. Alec forced himself to turn away; they just left Magnus there, his wrists chained to the post. He was determined that it wouldn’t be long. Alec refused to leave Magnus there.

Whatever it took, Alec would free him.

* * *

The courtyard was heavy with darkness. Silence stretched out across the stones, nestled in the short shadows cast by moonlight. The slashes over Magnus’s back bled black in the silver light. His spine was a long, darkly shadowed ridge down the centre of his bloody and frayed back. He half-knelt against the pillar, his hands bound via runed shackles to a metal ring near the top.

A figure moved in the shadows, breaths blooming into clouds in the cold air. Quick as a striking snake, the figure grabbed a stationed guard, an arm wrapped around her throat, rendering her unconscious with minimal struggle and easing her to the floor. When the figure came into the light, it was just because he knew it was safe.

Alec ran to the platform, pushed himself up to it and leaned down to Magnus, pressing a hand to his jaw. The warlock didn’t respond to his touch. His eyes were closed, his lips slack and parted slightly. Blood had dried in streams from his mouth. He had been out here for too long without magic. The cold was set deep in his skin.

Taking his stele, Alec ran it along the shackles, almost dropping it in his haste when they broke apart and Magnus slipped lifelessly into his arms. Alec quickly pushed the suppressing band back onto Magnus’s wrist, knowing that the wards of the Institute would detect magic in mere seconds. He winced as it scraped the torn skin from the shackles.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, though he doubted that Magnus could hear him. “I’m going to get you home, okay? I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright.”

Sliding the warlock up over his shoulder, he held Magnus with one hand grasping his wrist and the opposite arm hooked around the back of his leg. His way out of the institute was a backdoor out of the courtyard and into the grounds surrounding the institute. He concealed himself and, by association, Magnus with the help of his runes, ran invisible through the city back to his apartment. The shadowhunters were all at the institute, likely celebrating over Magnus’s capture and imminent death. Alec needed to be quick.

It was an awkward struggle to unlock the door to his apartment with an unconscious warlock upon his shoulders, but Alec managed it. He kicked the door shut behind him, readjusting his grip on Magnus and making his way to the bathroom, simply because it was the place that could be most easily cleaned. After a brief trip to collect everything he needed, Alec knelt beside Magnus once more, set the items down beside him and got to work.

He removed the tattered remains of the warlock’s bloodied shirt and tossed it in the sink, all his necklaces and rings and piercings carefully placed atop them. He slid a pillow beneath Magnus’s head, hoping the warlock was somewhat comfortable as Alec began washing out the lacerations across his back.

The blood flow had stopped by this point, simply because Magnus had been chained to that pillar for so long. When the wounds were clean and disinfected—the deep bruising and shredded skin all visible and untainted with masses of blood—Alec took his time on stitching and layering gauze, wrapping bandages around Magnus’s chest to protect the injuries from any contamination.

The whole process took hours.

When he was satisfied, he worked an arm beneath Magnus’s chest, hauling him up over his shoulders, unable to carry him another way lest he risk aggravating the wounds any further. In the main bedroom—in Alec’s bedroom—he laid the warlock down on the bed, gently angling his head to the side so he didn’t have his face buried in the pillows.

He fixed up an IV line of fluids and morphine, wishing only to ease Magnus’s pain should be wake. Upon pulling a blanket up to his waist, Magnus shifted and stirred, his fingers curling and clenching into the pillows beneath his head.

Magnus mumbled incoherently, his eyelids barely parting, just creeping to consciousness. His breaths were coming too fast, but so shallow. Sweat beaded his brow.

“It’s okay,” Alec said, stroked a lock of hair from Magnus’s eyes. “Here, you see? I’m right here. You’re in my apartment. You’re safe here.”

Magnus hummed, half a smile on his lips. “Alec…”

“Hey,” Alec replied, unable to keep his eyes from narrowing or the softness from creeping into his voice. He pressed a hand to Magnus’s forehead. His skin was cold and damp. “I think you’re still in shock, Magnus… How do you feel?”

Magnus squinted softly, confusion coming to his unfocused eyes. “How did… How did you get me here?”

Alec huffed softly. “Well, it wasn’t easy,” he teased. “You’re pretty heavy.”

“Alec,” Magnus said, his eyes narrowed in anxiety. “You didn’t… If someone had seen you…”

“It’s okay,” said Alec, stroked his hair back. “No one saw me. You escaped.”

Magnus shook his head. “Alec,” he muttered, quieted when the shadowhunter hushed him.

Shaking his head in turn, Alec allowed his eyes to narrow, trying to ignore the tears threatening to break because what had happened to the warlock was just so horrifying. “It’s okay,” he whispered again, his fingers running through Magnus’s hair, pushing it back so he could kiss the warlock’s brow. “Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“No,” Magnus mumbled, shifted and winced when it pulled at the stitches across his back. “Alec, you—you can’t keep saving me. Someone’s going to find out… You can’t… put anyone else’s life over your own. You’re too important.”

Alec’s lips curved up in a sad smile. “Magnus, I will die for you if I have to. I’ll die for the downworld… They can take me to the Gard and burn me alive and it would be worth it just to save a couple more people… to save you.”

Magnus’s eyelids slipped. “Alec, what’ve you… Did you give me something…?”

“Just a bit of morphine,” Alec reassured, pushed his hair back. “You’ve had it before. It’s okay if you need to sleep. You’re tired. It’s alright.”

Magnus blinked up at him. “Must be bored of… watching over me by now…”

Alec shook his head. “Never.” His eyes narrowed. “You can’t save the downworld if you don’t save yourself… You can’t save _anyone_ if you don’t save yourself.”

Magnus’s lips curled into a sleepy smile. “Don’t need to save myself… I have you… My guardian angel…”

“Stop calling me that every time you get hurt,” Alec said.

“Then stop saving me every time I get hurt.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Magnus just smiled weakly. It died from his lips when he fell to unconsciousness once again. Alec stroked his hair back, desperate to touch him, to hold him and knowing he shouldn’t lest he risk disturbing him or—Angel forbid—causing him more pain. He had been craving the warlock’s touch ever since their first time together.

He wanted to wrap Magnus up in his arms, to keep him close and safe. He couldn’t. Magnus was the leader of the downworld. He didn’t need to be held. He needed somewhere safe to sleep off his injuries, he needed someone to help him with his people, he needed his burden relieved, just a little.

Magnus had told him as much, breaking Alec’s heart with his duty. Understand though Alec may be, it didn’t stop him from being upset by Magnus’s words. The man he had lost his virginity to didn’t love him back. Alec tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter, that Magnus was within his right not to love him, that it was better than living in false hope.

Magnus never said he _didn’t_ love Alec, he said he _couldn’t_. In this world, Magnus was forced to put duty before love. It wasn’t fair. For either of them. That couldn’t be his focus, however. Alec needed to care for Magnus because, now more than ever, the warlock was in pain. That seemed to always be the case. Alec would do whatever he could to ease it.

Before, when Magnus was hurt, Alec only concern had been ensuring the wound was taken care of, ensuring Magnus had rested and eaten before he ran back out into the fray. Now, as loathe as Alec was to admit it, his life was becoming a tragic romance novel. He wanted to be with Magnus, just to hold him all the time, and the fact that he couldn’t might be breaking him a little.

More than anything, he simply wanted Magnus to be safe. The warlock would never be safe as long as the Clave were hunting downworlders; as long as he _lived_ it seemed he would never be safe. The shadowhunters would never stop. Something had to be done.

Magnus twitched and shuddered in his sleep. He was still in shock; the damp sheen over his brow and the chill of his skin told Alec as much. He needed to be kept warm. The shadowhunter fetched another blanket from his closet, draping it over Magnus’s body up to his chest. Reaching beneath, Alec found Magnus’s hand and gently brought it out, lifted it to his chest and held it there.

Maybe Magnus couldn’t love him, but that didn’t alter Alec’s own feelings. Magnus was his whole world now—the very reason that Alec had even started helping downworlders in the first place—and he would be damned if he let this wonderful, selfless man perish at the hands of his kin.

In that moment, Alec pressed his lips to Magnus’s limp hand, held it to his cheek, and made a silent vow. Whatever may come, he would protect Magnus and the downworld. If it meant his death, so be it. From this day forth, he would always place Magnus first. Regardless of the warlock's own feelings or duties, Alec knew that he could not stop loving him any more than he could stop breathing.

Love was selflessness and sacrifice, as Magnus had given to his people. Alec would sacrifice anything and everything if it meant that Magnus could be safe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus struggles for consciousness through the pain of his injuries. Alec is there to tend to his ills and offer him some comforts when he fully regains consciousness..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @Cryptical_Marionette, @PhoenixStar73, @AutumnsRed, @Aquitaine, @coffeandfanfiction, @Vallier, @gaydaractivate04, @master_girl, and @Autumn0309 for your comments on the last chapter!! I really love reading all your thoughts and kind words.; it honestly makes my day!

The pain was relentless.

Unconsciousness came frequent and frustrating, yet sometimes a relief, a respite from the agony assaulting his back. Magnus would wake in cold sweat, unable to move much and not wishing to do so. He was so tired of waking up and slipping back to darkness over and over again.

Most of the time, he couldn’t remember where he was or why this was happening. The room was dark and sometimes there was someone with him, holding his hand like they cared for him. All Magnus knew was that he had to return to his people as soon as possible. They needed him.

It wasn’t long before, upon gaining consciousness, he began trying to shove himself up, tremoring hands pushing into the mattress. He only managed to shove himself sideways and topple over the edge of the bed. Pain lanced over his back and it was happening all over again. The whip was striking him, cutting deep and merciless and Magnus let himself scream now, his body spasming and twisting on the floor. It was too much.

Darkness shrouded him again and, in what seemed like seconds later, a loud _bang_ startled him into wakefulness once more. A low moan broke his lips. He didn’t know how long he’d been out.

“Magnus,” a familiar voice said, footsteps hard against the floor, approaching in a rush. A hand pressed to Magnus’s side. “God, Magnus, hey. Hey, let’s get you back on the bed, okay? How long have you been here?”

Magnus closed his eyes and groaned softly, no having the energy to reply. Alec’s arms were working beneath his chest, gently pulling him upright, mindful of his back. The pain was too much to bear. Alec kept apologising, but it wasn’t his fault. He apologised even after he had Magnus settled again, his fervent words accompanied with a hand in Magnus’s hair.

“I should have been here,” he said over and over. “I’m sorry I wasn’t. I’m so sorry, Magnus. I should’ve been here with you. I won’t leave again.”

Magnus hadn’t noticed he was gone. He didn’t notice when he passed out and came round again over and over. He didn’t remember fighting—as much as he could fight being so grievously wounded, which was really no more than words. A frustrated moan wrenched his lips.

“Magnus, shh, shh,” Alec soothed when he woke in gasps and sweat, fingers clawing desperately into the sheets below him, struggling to push himself up. “Don’t try to move. Please, just lie still. I’m doing everything I can, but you need rest, you understand? I need you to rest for me now. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“No, I need to go,” Magnus insisted, acutely aware that he was panicking, but unable to stop. “I can’t stay here. They need me.”

His arms shook and gave out and he was gently caught around the chest, turned to his side as the warlock was placed back down to the mattress. Magnus blinked hard, fought against his eyes when they tried to roll back. His body was betraying him. It was an awful thing to realise.

“I have to… I have to go…”

“No, what you need is to rest,” said the voice firmly. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, Magnus. I can’t let you go anywhere until you’re well again.”

“They need me,” Magnus said, swallowed hard. “I can’t be here… I can’t stay in bed for days while my people are hunted.”

A slow breath exhaled hard. “It’s gonna be more than days, Magnus.”

Magnus shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he whispered, curled his fingers into the sheets he lay on. “I have to go… Please, let me go…”

“Magnus… Magnus, do you know where you are?”

“It’s…” Magnus began and his eyes squeezed shut tighter. “It’s so foggy… My head…”

A hand stroked through Magnus’s hair and, if it were anyone else, Magnus would have pulled away. He recognised the touch over his uncertain hearing, however. It was more familiar to him than anything else in this world.

“Alec…?” he whispered, and it almost came out in a whine.

“Hey,” Alec breathed out and his lips came to Magnus’s temple. “Hey, you’re okay… You’re okay, Magnus. I’m going to take care of you now… I know you’re confused, but it’s just because of your injuries. I’m right here when you need me, okay? I’m gonna stay right here.”

Magnus’s brow furrowed in pain and confusion. He was so dizzy. “Alec…”

“You can sleep,” Alec’s voice came through a sudden rush of blood in his ears, almost drowning him out. “It’s okay. It’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Magnus’s eyes roll in his head and he blacked out again—not that he knew it was happening at the time—surrendering to the void. He wasn’t sure if dreams broke his mind. He wasn’t sure he was even asleep. All he knew is that he was hot and cold and hot again in an endless cycle and his back hurt like it was being shredded on a grater. His throat was dry and sore, and he was so, _so_ tired.

He was sure he tried to call for Alec at intervals, but he didn’t remember if the shadowhunter came for him. He didn’t know what he was calling for. Alec couldn’t help him, couldn’t ease his pain.

“Magnus,” that voice urged again, further away now somehow. “Magnus, stay with me… You can beat this, I know you can. Just stay with me…”

Magnus tried to answer— _God_ did he try. He tried to explain that he was too hot and too tired and in too much pain. He didn’t want to wake up and he didn’t want to go to sleep. He just wanted to be out of pain and out of darkness. He couldn’t articulate any of it. He couldn’t speak.

“You’re so strong, Magnus. You’re so strong…”

Lying there, unsure if he was awake or asleep or somewhere in between, Magnus didn’t feel strong. He couldn’t even _move_. Nothing about what had happened involved strength. He had been scared for his people when he found them chained up outside the institute. He had despaired when the shadowhunters swarmed them, killed his people where they were still chained, grabbed and trussed him up too. He had been grieved to see Alec there when they dragged him into their institute.

As horrifying as it was, the lashes he took were made so much worse knowing that Alec was there watching him. What must the shadowhunter think of him now?

He wasn’t strong. He was _weak_.

It was the worst feeling in the world.

Eventually, when he woke and the pain was at least somewhat bearable, Alec was still at his side. The shadowhunter sat to attention when his eyes opened, straight-backed and wide-eyed and Magnus barely managed a weak smile. He didn’t feel like smiling, not in the slightest, but Alec was here. The young man had saved his life. Magnus owed him some semblance of assurance at least.

“Magnus?” Alec asked gently, a hand hesitantly settling on the back of Magnus’s head. “Hey, are you… are you awake?”

Magnus hummed his confirmation. “Feel… a little better now.”

Alec’s jaw trembled softly and he swallowed so hard that his throat bobbed. “You scared me,” he admitted in a whisper. “I thought… Magnus, what they did to you… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for what happened and I’m sorry for leaving you afterwards. I had to be seen at the institute when it was discovered you had escaped. I was scared of being found out. I should’ve stayed with you. I’m sorry.”

Magnus shook his head, as much as he could while lying on his front and with him being so badly injured. “It’s not your fault.”

“How can you say that?” Alec asked and Magnus blinked hard to see tears glossing the shadowhunters eyes. “When it happened… I just watched, Magnus. I should’ve done something.”

“If you had then we’d both be dead,” Magnus reasoned gently. “I’m glad you didn’t act. Even freeing me was too much of a risk, Alec… You need to understand how much danger you’re in from aiding me.”

Alec tilted his head. “Is that why you tried to push me away?”

Breathing out slowly, Magnus blinked up at him. “Alec, I… I’m sorry that I was so blunt with you. I wish I could’ve… explained.”

“No, I understand,” Alec said and Magnus was shocked to find that there wasn’t a trace of anger in his voice. “You have to put your people first. I get that… What I don’t get is why it means you didn’t come back to me until you got captured.”

Magnus closed his eyes, forcing himself to admit what he had been trying so hard to keep inside. “Alec, if I continued to visit you without an exceptional reason then… I knew I would find myself making decisions based on you rather than the downworld.” He prised his eyes open to gauge Alec’s reaction, but the shadowhunter was just frowning at him. “I’m falling in love with you… and if I let myself fall completely, then I will start to put you first.”

Alec shook his head. “No, you don’t have to—”

“I would,” Magnus insisted. “Because that’s how I am with love… I can’t change that any more than you can strip yourself of your runes. If I loved you… then I would put you above everything. I can’t afford to do that, Alexander. I can’t…”

He trailed, shifted with a grunt of pain and closed his eyes again, let himself relax back against the pillows.

“I understand,” Alec said gently. “It doesn’t mean I can stop any of _my_ feelings.”

Magnus nodded. “I know that… I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” Alec chided softly. He takes a moment, tilts his head. “Your wounds are healing pretty well… I can run you a bath if you think you can manage it. Does that sound good?”

Magnus hummed softly, not wishing to dissuade Alec, but equally fearful of opening up any more than he needed to. Alec had seen enough of his weakness. “Sure,” was all he said.

“Let me run one for you,” Alec offered gently. “You should… stay here. I’ll come back and help you when it’s ready.”

Magnus hummed, barely any choice in the matter. There was no option for him but to wait for Alec’s return. As far as he knew, he didn’t black out again; although he isn’t sure he’d know if he did. When the shadowhunter returned, he set a gentle hand to the back of Magnus’s head, coaxing his eyes open and giving him a soft—albeit grief-tainted—smile.

With Alec’s help, he managed to get to his feet. It was slow going, pausing at every flinch of pain, shaking his head at all of Alec’s soft apologies. Alec’s arm wrapped low on his back, holding his hip as a support. Magnus tried to stand mostly unaided, but it simply wasn’t possible and most of his weight ended up leaned against Alec’s side.

The bath was full when they arrived. A light mist of condensation steamed the mirror above the sink. Nothing rose from the water, however, so Magnus was assured that it wasn’t unbearably hot. Usually, he would enjoy the heat, but he wasn’t sure if his wounds could take it.

“Here,” Alec sat, set the lid of the toilet down. “Sit. Let me unwrap your bandages.”

Magnus swallowed hard, but did as he was told. Alec’s hands were steady and practiced and Magnus winced to think of how many downworlders he had cared for behind the scenes. The movement made Alec pause.

“Are you okay? Is it too much?”

Magnus shook his head. “I’m okay.”

The bandages peeled back a little painfully, but Alec made a satisfied kind of sound. “You’ve healed up pretty good… I guess it’s your magic at work rather than anything else.”

Magnus recognised the tone easily. “Everything you did made a difference,” he said as gently as he can manage. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Yeah,” Alec said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “The scars will probably be sensitive for a while. You… You should stay here to rest for a bit instead of going back out there right away.”

Magnus thought upon that as Alec discarded the bandages to the bin. Perhaps it was as Alec said and he was simply concerned for the warlock’s health. Perhaps it was something else. It was no secret now that Alec cared for him deeply. Magnus could understand Alec’s aversion to let him leave. Thinking of the shadowhunter at the institute—surrounded by people who would slaughter him if they knew the truth—was terrifying.

“Magnus?”

Alec was knelt in front of him, a gentle hand to his knee.

“I’m here,” said Magnus, lost in himself.

“Okay,” Alec said slowly. “You want to try out the bath?”

Magnus swallowed hard and nodded, allowed the shadowhunter to help him to his feet and guide him to the bathtub. The water was hot, but not scalding. Still, Magnus had to fight back a flinch when it touched the wounds over his back. He lay back into it, just trying to get his back accustomed to the heat.

The water swirled up around his ears and Magnus closed his eyes tightly, swallowed hard at the memories that pushed their way to the front of his mind. Dead faces stared back at him from the water, pale and breathless, glass eyes reflecting the light unnaturally. Alec’s hands were in his hair, combing the knots out. It would be all too easy for him to push down, to overpower Magnus in his weakened state.

Water rushed downwards in his haste to escape. The rim of the tub hit his shins when Magnus scrambled out over the edge, but he barely felt it.

Alec’s hands were on him again and Magnus blinked hard, acutely aware that he was breathing far too quickly, that he was on the floor now with Alec’s hands clutching his arms, Alec’s voice in his ears, struggling to soothe him. He tried to ignore the fact that he was completely naked and having a panic attack. The whole notion was humiliating enough.

“Magnus, it’s okay,” Alec was saying, his voice overwhelming gentle, his hand lifting to cradle the back of the warlock’s head. Magnus flinched but didn’t pull away. “Magnus…”

“I…” Magnus began and breathed out slowly, shakily. “I’m sorry. I panicked…”

“It’s okay,” Alec repeated. “You should’ve told me about the water. I need to know your triggers, Magnus. It’s not safe for you if I don’t.”

That word— _triggers_ —made Magnus close his eyes and turn his head away. Alec must think him so weak.

Magnus shook his head. “It’s not… It’s not the water, it’s just… I can’t put my head under…” He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes. “A long time ago… the Clave used to drown warlocks. They would chain them and hold them under until their lungs filled with water and their skin turned pale and cold and I… I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t do anything.”

“Magnus…”

“I know,” Magnus uttered, shook his head. “I know, I’m sorry. I… I just need a minute.”

Alec shook his head. “No, that’s not…” He sighed softly. “I’m worried about you, Magnus. Just… whenever you’re ready, okay? You don’t have to get back in if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” said Magnus, pushing his hair back.

Alec tilted his head a little. “Do you trust me?” he asked and Magnus looked to him in confusion. He couldn’t answer honestly, so he said nothing. “If you can, just a little, just for a moment, then take my hand.”

Magnus eyed the outstretched fingers a little warily, but he reached for them, letting Alec lace their fingers and gently guide their hands to the surface of the water and below. A slow exhale left Magnus’s lips.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked.

Magnus nodded. “I’m okay…”

Alec held the back of Magnus’s hand, their fingers interlaced, and gently moved his hand across the surface of the water. It rippled softly, warm and frothed with bubbles.

Magnus watched it with mild interest and Alec watched him with intent concern. Magnus pushed their hands a little further in, submerging them to the wrists, watching the water slosh over their skin, dark and light laced together.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Alec vowed softly and Magnus looked to him, to the sincerity in those hazel eyes. “I understand that you can’t trust me, but I’m going to keep saying it so you know. I just want to help you. I’ll never make you do anything that you don’t want to do. I will never hurt you.”

“I think…” Magnus began, swallowed hard, still so unused to having a shadowhunter on his side; unused to having someone care for him without ulterior motives. “I think I need you to hold me… Will you just hold me?”

Alec nodded. “Yeah,” he said, clasping his hand a little tighter. “Yeah, if—if that’ll make you feel better. Will it?”

Magnus pursed his lips. “I don’t know… I hope so.”

Again, Alec simply nodded. “Okay, here… Are you ready to try again?”

Magnus hummed and nodded, allowed Alec to help him up. He moved into the bath one foot at a time, slowly sinking below the water and pulling his knees up against his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes were fixed on the water. Alec’s arm came around his chest, over his collarbones, holding him gently.

Magnus leaned into him, allowed Alec to wash him clean, which can’t have been easy one-handed. Alec’s touch was gentle and calming and never roamed anywhere overly intimate, and Magnus could feel his heartbeat slowing, the warmth of the bath and Alec’s steady, but gentle hands calming his paranoid mind.

“Are you okay?” Alec would ask every so often, or “is this okay” when he moved to wash another section of Magnus’s body.

Every time, Magnus would nod. “It’s okay.”

Alec didn’t physically touch his back, but he poured water over it, stopped with every flinch, tentatively continued with Magnus’s reassurance and permission.

It was strange to be cared for. Magnus supposed he didn’t hate it.

What he hated was the flashbacks, the bouts of panic that would hit him from certain exposures, the pain in his back. He hated feeling weak and vulnerable and needing someone to care for him. He hated shadowhunters and what they and done to him and his people.

He didn’t hate Alec, however, he reflected as the young shadowhunter poured water down his back, an arm still braced gently over the warlock’s chest. He couldn’t hate Alec. Not even if he wanted to.

Not even a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. sorry about the late updates on literally everything - life is hectic right now


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Magnus's past shows that Alec Lightwood is not his first encounter with a shadowhunter who wished to help rather than hurt. In the present day, Magnus finds himself faced with a decision: does he remain reasoned and steadfast in his protection of his people, or does he give in to his desires and allow Alec into his heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @Vallier, @master_girl, @Adaline_Blooms, @gaydaractivate04, @Aquitaine, @ilovemanicures, and @NotEvenThat for your comments on the last chapter - I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting!!
> 
> This. Chapter. Fought. Me. So. HARD. It was supposed to be an Isabelle-centric chapter, but it didn't add up with the rest of the fic and I just couldn't get it to work, so this might be garbage??
> 
> I'm so sorry about the late updates - I watched The Old Guard recently, so what little spare time I can conjure has been spent writing for that.

* * *

_Approximately Nine Years Ago…_

* * *

Downworlders were screaming all around him and Magnus was overwhelmed with fear and anger and desperation. There was blood in his mouth, choking the back of his throat. His magic was burning his palms, wrapping fire between his fingers. It had been so long since he had released it. He only did so now because he had no other choice.

The shadowhunters had taken them unawares. They had thought themselves safe; Magnus’s Red Hook safehouse had been abandoned for years, a disused grain terminal at the docks. They had been there barely four hours—the sun had just sunk below the horizon—before the Nephilim were swarming them.

Now, Magnus’s hands were alight with crimson flame and his people were screaming.

A shadowhunter lunged at him, seraph blade slashing, and Magnus shot a blast of magic to force them back, jaw clenched in trembling restraint. He shouldn’t kill; he _could not_ kill lest he become exactly like those he fought against. There weren’t even that many of them this time, but the downworlders had been worn and wearied from their travel to the safehouse. They had been unprepared.

Magnus ran to a downed werewolf, pressing a magic-flared hand to the boy’s shoulder and beginning to stich the flesh there back together. The boy gasped and hissed in pain, his eyes flashing emerald. All this downworlder action was going to attract more shadowhunters. Magnus knew they had to keep fighting; they had to win and they had to do it soon.

They had to clear a path. They had to run. There was no other choice.

“Get the warlock!” someone was yelling and Magnus gritted his teeth as the Nephilim converged.

He did what he had to do and backed himself away from his people, hurried back from the shadowhunters and allowed himself to be ushered into a corner. There are seraph blades in his face. They paused there, surrounding him.

“Cowards,” Magnus snarled, anger taking over his fear. “What are you waiting for…? Kill me!”

The result was instantaneous, but not at all what Magnus had expected. The shadowhunters moved as one, all except for a dark blur at their side and Magnus feared that one of his people had deemed to save him. A silver whip slashed with relentless precision, targeting the shadowhunters, and Magnus did the same with his magic, desperate to aid this hooded figure who fought his enemy.

Together, they made short work of the group. Shadowhunters lay in an unconscious heap and, it was only when Magnus had a moment to catch his breath, did he realise that a silver whip like that was not a downworlder weapon. It was a Nephilim’s choice. Runes flashed along the silver tail.

“Who are you?” Magnus demanded, magic flared at his fingertips once again.

The figure pulled their hood down, turned to him. Dark hair fell free down her shoulders, equally dark eyes staring back at him, hard with determination and the aftermath of her fight. She was barely a teenager, just a girl.

“You’re just a child,” Magnus said, shook his head. In his shock, the magic faded from his fingers, though he knew that their children could be just as deadly as the grown Nephilim.

The girl huffed like she disapproved of that, but her attention quickly shifted and she took a cuff from the inside pocket of her caped hoodie, marching to stand before Magnus, grabbing his wrist and clasping the cuff on. The warlock immediately felt his magic shrink and compress, trapped inside him.

“What the…” Magnus began, wrenching his hand away and casting wide eyes to the girl.

“You’re going to attract another patrol if you don’t control yourself,” she hissed, grabbed his upper arm and pushed him back. “Run. There’ll be more coming. Go after your people. I’ll make something up.”

Magnus shook his head. “Why are you doing this? Who are you?”

“I wouldn’t let them kill you,” said the girl. “I couldn’t. Now, please, Magnus, just go.”

“Wait,” Magnus called after her as she went to turn away. The girl looked back over her shoulder. “Thank you…”

The girl looked him up and down, as if weighing him up. “Isabelle,” she said with a shrug of one shoulder. “Dangerous to tell you my name, but I know yours… Only seems fair.”

“Isabelle,” Magnus echoed, “thank you. I won’t forget this.”

The girl tossed her head in a clear indication for him to leave, flourishing her whip to the side and strengthening it out into a silver staff. Magnus gaped a moment, shaking himself back to reality quickly enough, and turning heel to run like a coward, fleeing from the undoubtedly oncoming shadowhunters and leaving this teenage girl to clean up the mess. She must've only been twelve or thirteen. That a child should have that much strength and understanding, that she should be here on a patrol aimed at slaughtering downworlders, that she should turn on her own people; it was insane.

The way their world was, however, Magnus was simply glad to have a shadowhunter who didn't want to kill him. The fact that she was a child didn't change her worth. She was a sign; a rebel and a fighter like Magnus himself. Perhaps there would be others like them one day.

For one shining moment, Magnus held hope in his heart that things could change.

* * *

_Present Day…_

* * *

Dusk was falling when Magnus donned some spare clothes from the bottom of Alec’s closet.

It had been days since his ordeal at the New York Institute. If it was down to Alec, he would be staying at the apartment for a much longer period. It wasn’t down to Alec, however. Magnus’s choices were his own and he was choosing to leave before he was ready to.

Realistically, he suspected the wounds across his back would never fully heal. Shadowhunter whips were brutal. In truth, there were only a few times in his incredibly long life where Magnus had been happy to see a whip like that; although, Isabelle had been practically radio silent for over two years now. There were rumours, of course, but nothing confirmed.

Magnus received many rumours of someone matching Isabelle’s description aiding downworlders in a fight, slaughtering entire squads of shadowhunters just to save a few broken downworlders. Although he wasn’t sure how much truth there was in the talk, it did _sound_ like Isabelle. She was deadly in a fight. She would kill to save downworlders.

She wasn’t like Alec.

“Magnus?”

Glancing over his shoulder pulled at the scars across his back, but Magnus forced himself not to flinch. He wondered how long he would be pained by his own movements.

Alec was stood in the doorway, an uncertain hand at the frame, a furrow to his brow.

“Are you leaving?”

Magnus’s expression creased in regret, but he nodded softly. “I have to,” he said, lifted a hand to cut Alec off when his lips parted, likely to protest. “Alec, please, don’t try to talk me out of it. I know you’re worried about me, but I need to find my people. I have to protect them.”

Alec shook his head. “Magnus, you were… you were really badly hurt. I don’t think it’s safe for you to leave.”

“You’re afraid,” Magnus murmured, wandered forward and took Alec’s hands in his own. “It’s okay. I am too… but I need to go. You have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Alec’s throat convulsed in a hard swallow. “I do trust that you know what you’re doing… I just wish that you wouldn’t do it at the expense of your own safety.”

A moment of silence left Magnus thoughtful, considering how deeply Alec’s emotions ran, how much he cared for everyone else, even at the expense of himself. It seemed hypocritical of the shadowhunter now to chide Magnus for being reckless. Magnus supposed Alec was just looking out for him.

Looking _at_ him now; almost constantly, Alec was looking at him. His eyes were dark and solemn and Magnus wished he wouldn’t look like that, but the world they lived in didn’t offer much in the sense of joy. These lives they had, they ripped everything apart; it ripped them apart.

“Alec,” said Magnus, decisive for the first time in so long, doing this one thing for himself now; for _Alec_ even. “I… I like being here. I like being with you and I—I wish things could be different, but they’re not, and I wish that—”

“Magnus, there’s no use in wishing,” Alec said, his eyes dark. “You know that as well as I do, and that’s okay.” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Look, the world is fucked, Magnus. The only thing that makes my life worth living is doing whatever I can to help you and your people.”

Taking a moment to consider his answer, Magnus inhaled deeply, squeezed Alec’s hands. “Right now… I am only living for you.”

Alec frowned, shook his head. “You don’t mean that… You’re always talking about your people and how important they are to you—”

“I know,” Magnus interrupted softly, “but I… I’m not who you think I am, Alec. I’m not strong… I’m afraid all the time and I have to pretend like I know what I’m doing even when I’m so fucking scared. Everything falls to me and if I do something wrong then I cost my people their lives.” He took a breath, let it out slowly. “I don’t feel safe anywhere, but… I’m most relaxed when I’m with you.”

Swallowing hard, Alec lifted a hand to stroke warm fingertips down the curve of Magnus’s temple. “That’s all I want for you,” he admitted, barely above a whisper. “I just want you to be safe. I wish…” He huffed softly, shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what I wish, right…?”

Magnus lifted his gaze to Alec’s own, turning his head slightly against the touch at his temple. “Maybe wishes are all we have now…”

A beat of silence met his words.

For a moment, Magnus feared that he might have said something wrong, but then Alec closed his eyes briefly, ducked his head. “I wish I could kiss you.”

Magnus didn’t hesitate. “Then kiss me.”

Hands were strong and steady on his waist, pulling him in and holding him firm. The press of Alec’s lips was soft, but insistent. Magnus lifted his hands to the shadowhunter’s neck, holding him in place, although Alec didn’t seem to plan on ever letting him go. Alec’s mouth was a touch of fire in darkness; life-saving.

Magnus was the first to pull away, resting his forehead against Alec’s own and sighing softly. “I have to go,” he whispered.

Alec shifted like he wanted to shake his head, but he didn’t once break the contact of their skin. It might have been the only thing holding him together. It felt as much for Magnus. “You don’t,” he said, although he must have known it wasn’t true. “You could just... You could stay, Magnus. You don’t have to fight anymore. I could hide you... You could stay.”

Magnus swallowed hard and his hand came to Alec’s cheek, gently pushing his head back. “I have to go,” he said again, sadder now than before. “I’m sorry.”

Alec kept his eyes closed and his cheek was warm as it pressed against Magnus’s palm. His lips parted like he planned on speaking, but nothing came out bar a shaky, half-stifled sob, and Magnus’s eyes narrowed to see Alec on the verge of tears. Perhaps he had wished to speak, but that didn’t seem like an option anymore.

Magnus’s hand slid around to the nape of his neck, leaned in to chastely kiss his forehead. “Don’t wait up,” he said, a tremoring attempt at nonchalance.

Alec seemed frozen, even as Magnus stroked a thumb over his cheek, turned away from him. The door loomed uninvitingly in front of him. It was a struggle to fight back that traitorous part of him that longed to stay.

“Magnus,” Alec said in a rush and the warlock stopped to look back at him. “I love you.”

Magnus was quiet a moment. It might have been the longest moment of either of their lives. The blood was rushing in his ears, his mind begging him not to indulge Alec’s proclamation; his chest tightened uncomfortably, his heart aching to be true to himself, to admit what he had tried for so long to fight.

An overwhelming softness filled Magnus’s heart and he turned fully to give Alec his full attention. The words came easily to his lips.

“I love you too.”

Alec ran to him.

Magnus huffed when the hug knocked the air from his chest, but it didn’t matter. The shadowhunter wrapped his arms around Magnus, kept him close and safe for just a few more precious seconds before Magnus must walk back out into an unforgiving world. It wasn’t enough. It would have to do.

“I hate watching you walk out that door,” said Alec, seeming hesitant to meet Magnus’s gaze when he eased out of the hug.

The warlock clicked his tongue softly, the pads of his fingers skimming Alec’s cheek. He hated to do this, but it may be what Alec needed. “Close your eyes, darling.”

Alec frowned softly, but did as he was told.

“What’s this supposed to be?” he asked, waited for an answer a considerable moment. Magnus swallowed hard and turned for the door, hearing Alec’s confused query of "Magnus?" at his back and hoping beyond hope that it wouldn't be the last time he heard the young man say his name.

By the time Alec's eyes opened, Magnus was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Magnus's ordeal at the institute, Alec must get back to his everyday assistance of the downworld when a young werewolf turns up at his door seeking refuge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who commented on the last chapter: @master_girl, @Sonia7atm, @Vallier, @NotEvenThat, @gaydaractivate04, and @greenlove!

Magnus’s blood-stained clothes were still piled in the laundry basket when Alec’s door sounded to herald another arrival.

It hadn’t been all that long since Magnus had left him, since he had gone back to his people with the wounds across his back barely healed. Alec had been left to clean the blood from the tiles of his bathroom, from his sheets and his mattress where Magnus’s wounds had bled through the bandages.

Alec didn’t know what to do with his clothes. There would be no point in cleaning them. His shirt was frayed and slashed beyond repair and his trousers were stained in blood and dirt and whatever else he had walked through in those sewers. Still, Alec couldn’t bring himself to throw them away.

He was barely done washing his dishes, just finished dinner, when an urgent knock at his door had him turning around. It didn’t sound like Magnus. He knew how Magnus knocked— soft and certain because he belonged here—and this wasn’t it. This wasn’t Magnus.

This was panic.

Alec saw it in the boy he let into his apartment, in his wide eyes as he looked to Alec, as they flitted over the rune across his neck. The amount of times Alec had been tempted to de-rune himself, the number of books he had read on the subject. As far as he knew, de-runing oneself was impossible. Someone had to do it for him and there was no one he could trust.

The runes just made downworlders like this boy fear him that much more. Panic and fear were the bulk of what he received when they looked at him.

“Are you Alec?” the boy asked, swallowed hard.

Alec frowned, nodded. “Yeah, come in,” he said, reached out to gently touch the boy’s shoulder, guiding him inside.

The door closed behind them and Alec locked it, turning to survey the damage. The boy was hunched like a gaunt, old man, arms wrapped tight around his stomach, staring at Alec with frightened, shadowed eyes. He was so thin, so pale that Alec wondered if he might be a vampire. He looked sick and Alec found it difficult to bear.

“It’s okay,” said Alec, lifted his hands halfway to submission, an instinct to prove that he didn’t have weapons and that he didn’t mean any harm. “What’s your name?”

“Bartholomew,” said the boy. “E—Everyone calls me Bat. I was scratched by a werewolf last week and Magnus told me to come here. He’s a warlock… He said you could help me. I need to sleep and I can’t control it. He said—Magnus, I mean—he said he wanted me to go somewhere as stress-free as possible.”

Alec nodded. “Yeah, I know Magnus… and, whatever I can do, I’ll certainly try to help you… I made one of the rooms wolf-friendly a few months ago. It’s soundproof, steel door with locks. No one will hear you and you won’t get out even if you lose control. It’s a place you can sleep without worrying and wait out your transformation.”

Bat shook his head. “Magnus didn’t tell me that I’d be locked in. I don’t… I don’t want to be trapped. I don’t want to be in there on my own.”

“There are restraints if you want,” said Alec. “It might not be incredibly comfortable, but, if you wear them, then I can sit with you.” He came forward to gently touch the boy’s arm, relieved when Bat didn’t pull away. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Bat said, lower lip trembling. “No, I’m just… I’m scared.”

Alec gave him a crooked, not-quite-smile. “That’s good. Means you’re smart… Come on now though. Let’s get you settled in the room before you turn.”

The restraints were untested. So far, Alec had only had wolves who had control in his apartment, never one so recently turned. Still, he took all the furniture out of the room except the mattress, set up the restraints and got Bat into them, ensured he was comfortable—as comfortable as he could be while being chained up—before he locked the heavy door and settled down in the corner opposite Bat.

“You know Magnus, right?” Alec asked, as he had been desperate to ask since the boy had entered his apartment.

Bat shrugged and the chains rattled at the movement. “I… I don’t really _know_ him. He saved me from—”

He cut himself off, a sheepish look on his face, but Alec knew what he was going to say. “From shadowhunters,” he finished for the boy. “You’re allowed to say it. I know what my people do and what they’ve done. I’m sorry you’ve been brought into this life… It’s a steep learning curve.”

Bat hummed, clearly already aware of that, and met Alec’s eyes hesitantly. “You were asking about Magnus?”

Alec leaned forward a little, bringing his knees to his chest. “How is he?”

“I… I don’t know, he looks… tired,” Bat said, narrowed his eyes anxiously. “He’s good at fighting, even without using magic, but when all the fighting stopped and we got to safety, he just seemed really tired.” He wrinkled his nose. “He smelled like blood.”

Flitting his gaze down, Alec tried not to think too much about the implications of that. The wounds across Magnus’s back weren’t healed when he left. Perhaps they still hadn’t healed. Perhaps they never would.

“Magnus has been through a lot,” was all he said. “The shadowhunters… they hurt him really badly a couple weeks ago and I’m not sure he’s really healed yet.”

“Why do they do it?” Bat asked, his eyes huge and round and _innocent_.

Alec shook his head. “People are afraid of what they don’t understand… Shadowhunters, we have angel blood, and someone long ago took our mission to protect mundanes from demons and extended it to mean killing anything with even a trace of demon blood.” He sighed softly, rubbed his forehead. “We were never meant to kill downworlders. We were supposed to protect _everyone_ from demons.”

There was a beat of silence, too long, and Alec lifted his head, meeting Bat’s eyes. There was a glimmer of emerald to them.

“Bat…? Bat, hey—”

“I…” the boy began, terror clipping his voice. “I can’t control it, I’m sorry. I’m scared.”

Alec took a moment to consider that—just a second because any longer would mean leaving Bat for his own mind—and realised that every downworlder was afraid. It was their birth right.

“We’re all scared,” he said. “I’m scared all the time. I’m terrified of getting caught and of peopling finding out that I’ve been helping the downworld. I don’t want to die.” Bat was staring at him, breathing hard, but his body wasn’t twisting in transformation. Alec continued. “More than that, though, I’m scared for Magnus… I’m so scared for him because he’s out there all the time and he doesn’t have the security of being a shadowhunter. None of you do.”

Bat blinked hard, breathed harder. “You… You love him…”

“Yes,” Alec admitted without hesitation.

Shaking his head, Bat brought his hands to his face. “How can you do that? How can you love him when your people are trying to kill his? How do you bear it?”

“I…” Alec began and blinked quickly. “I don’t know. I suppose I _don’t_ really. I can’t bear it; thinking about him out there…”

Bat looked to him with tears in his eyes. “It’s hard… I’ve only been a werewolf a week and it’s already so, so hard…”

“I know,” said Alec, leaned forward to gently touch his arm. “It’s okay. I know…”

They don’t talk all that much after that. A few words are murmured here and there, but they’re both tired and, soon enough, Bat is curling up on the claw-marked mattress he sat on. Alec settled himself back in his corner, rested his chin over arms folded across his knees.

Determined to keep watch, Alec forced himself to stay awake, to ensure Bat slept through the night without turning.

He didn’t.

He made it maybe half a dozen hours before he began twitching and baring his teeth and growling and Alec shifted himself forward, wide awake now, whereas before he may have been dozing. The young werewolf snarled at his touch, still dreaming, his body twisting unnaturally, _painfully_.

“Bat,” Alec hissed and—knowing full well how dangerous it was—placed his hands to the boy’s shoulders. “Bat!”

A bout of inhuman strength hit mid-turn and Bat’s eyes snapped open, glaring emerald, half-morphed as he struck Alec hard. The room rushed back on him. Pain exploded in the back of his head and, as quickly as it came, it disappeared. Darkness pressed in hard over Alec’s eyes.

Consciousness came back to him like rain—first in a trickle and then a downpour. There were voices around him, a hand gently tilting his chin back, another in his hair.

“Alec,” a familiar voice said and Alec blinked hard to force his eyes open. “Alec, can you hear me?”

A pounding ache shot through his skull and Alec grimaced softly, blinking again to focus his eyes on the warlock knelt over him. It could never have been anyone else. It didn’t matter what he was doing here; it just mattered that he _was_ here. Alec tried to say his name, but his lips were numb and the sound didn’t break his throat in anything but a low groan.

“Alright, hey, sit up for me,” Magnus coaxed gently, one hand to Alec’s head, the other to his shoulder, helping him back against the wall. “That’s it. There you go.” His hand pressed to Alec’s forehead, thumb passing lightly over his temple. “You’re burning up.”

“Have I… ‘ve I been scratched?” Alec asked, the words slurring in his mouth.

Magnus didn’t answer for a long moment and his silence was response enough. The boy—Bat—was talking urgently behind him, panicked and apologetic and Alec wanted nothing more than assure him that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault. He couldn't find his voice anymore, however. He could barely lift his head from the wall, fighting to stare down at the blood staining his side, pooling the floor beneath him. His mind was foggy with fever, his skin slick with sweat when he curled his fingers against his palms, his body burning right down to his core.

If he had been scratched then that meant… the most likely consequence of that was turning. Alec would lose his runes, his Nephilim blood, everything that made him who he was, everything that ensured his safety. Shadowhunters turned downworlders were treated no less harshly then those born with demon blood; more harshly, to some extent. Before the uprising, they had been shunned, run out of their homes, disgraced and shamed. Now, they were slaughtered where they lay.

By all rights, a scratch from a werewolf meant death, regardless of the outcome. If it had been Jace instead of Magnus, he would’ve cut Alec’s throat in his unconsciousness without a second thought.

“Magnus,” he mumbled, fear taking over his feverish mind.

He didn’t want to die. By the Angel, he didn’t want to die.

The warlock shook his head, pressed a hand to Alec’s cheek. “Relax. The fever’s actually a good sign. Your wound isn’t healing and you’re not turning. You’re not going to turn.” There was a moment’s pause. Magnus took a breath. “You got lucky this time. It was dangerous for you to be here, Alec. Why would you do this?”

The darkness was pressing in at the corners of his eyes. Alec could feel himself losing focus. “’m sorry,” he apologised softly, sadly, dismayed that Magnus might be upset with him. “I was… trying to help.” The fever was too much, his mind too unfocused. “I don’t want to die… Magnus, I don’t want to die.”

“Hush, Alexander,” Magnus soothed, so far away, and Alec watched his lips keep moving and listened to his voice come too muffled to hear, wondered if this was it.

He was glad to be here, at least. In the end, he was glad to be with Magnus.

The darkness was pressing down over his eyes and Magnus’s expression twisted in panic, his hands patting at Alec’s cheeks. Alec tried to lift his hand, to hold the warlock, but nothing came of it.

It didn’t matter.

His senses failed him as he spiralled deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, felt the need to switch it up! Next chapter, we get to see Magnus caring for Alec!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec struggles to fight the infection of his injuries and is haunted by fever-driven nightmares. Now, it is Magnus's turn to care for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to all my recent commenters: @gaydaractive04, @dani_drabbles, @June Hodge, @gunpower_and_pearls, @master_girl, @sosowhat, @Vallier, @Nanuko8. Noticing a lot of new readers, so welcome and thank you so much for leaving a comment! I look forward to hearing your thoughts on how the story progresses and I hope it’s worth your while!!

Without use of his magic, Magnus worried that he might struggle to treat Alec’s wounds.

This was from a wolf’s claws, ravaging immediate infection and a burning fever and Magnus was more worried for Alec now than perhaps ever before.

Magnus had long ago stashed a bag of his own potions and herbal remedies in the cabinet beneath Alec’s sink and, luckily for him, there was still half a vial of the one he used for wolf-related injuries. Alec didn’t know how to use them, of course, so he left them for Magnus’s use.

The warlock did his best to keep the bag stocked, but even something as simple as making potions was dangerous in a world like this. Sometimes Magnus would pick a safehouse he could afford to have breached, one with an easy escape hatch, and he would cast his magic into pre-made potions.

It was nowhere near as potent as using magic during the actual potion-making process, but it was less work all at once and it gave him time to get away before the shadowhunters responded to his magic. It would have to do.

Now, the potion glistened softly when Magnus took it to his fingers, smoothed it over the scratches gouged deep into Alec’s side. The shadowhunter’s body bucked and shuddered in pain, a shaky moan wrenching from his lips. Magnus hushed him, though he knew deep down that it wouldn’t do much good.

Alec wasn’t conscious.

He was asleep and in pain and Magnus was determined to ease as much of his suffering as possible before he woke.

Alec’s face was pale and pinched in unconscious agony. The sweat beading across his brow caught in the lamplight when he turned his head, mumbling something incoherent from heavy lips.

“Shh,” Magnus hushed him long and soft, a hand gently pressing over the back of Alec’s own while the other layered ointment over the wound. He just needed the shadowhunter to know that he was here. “Shh, it’s alright. It won’t be long now… You’ll feel better soon, Alexander. I promise.”

_I don’t want to die… Magnus, I don’t want to die._

Alec’s last conscious words echoed in his ears and Magnus closed his eyes, angled his face away from the shadowhunter, just for a moment. He had tried to assure Alec that he wasn’t going to die, that Magnus was not going to let him die, but he was fairly sure Alec was too far gone to hear him. Consciousness had slipped away from him just as he came round from his head injury.

It had looked like a lot of blood at the time, but the wound at the back of his head wasn’t traumatic. It was just enough to knock him out for a bit.

For as long as he lived, Magnus would remember the fear he felt when he threw open that door. Seeing Alec on the floor, blood dripping from the back of his head, pooling under his chest; Bat, clutching a blanket around himself, tears on his cheeks as he stared up at Magnus with wide, glossy eyes, unable to break himself free of the chains to get to Alec. It was a terrifying ordeal and not one he ever wished to repeat.

He had instructed Bat on where to find clothes and food in Alec’s apartment, sent the boy out to a safehouse where he hoped that Catarina would meet him. Bat had sobbed over apologies, but Magnus had given assurance that it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been in control.

He wrapped the scratches up in a thin layer of bandages when he was done with the potion, hushing Alec’s every whimper and moan. It sounded so wrong to hear him like that. Alec had always been Magnus’s strength, even if he hadn’t known it. Alec had been a roaring flame in endless darkness, a spark of hope in a despairing world, and Magnus loved him more than he ever thought possible.

He was tired of hiding it. He wanted to have something for himself. He could allow himself this at least.

“It’s alright, my darling. It’s done now,” he soothed once he was done. His hand came to Alec’s forehead, feeling the heat there. “Let me get you something for this fever, okay? I’ll be back in a moment.”

Alec hummed his discomfort, tossed his head against the pillows. His lips flared, but he didn’t speak. He couldn’t, of course; he wasn’t even conscious. Magnus was hurried in collecting what he needed, anxious to be back in the room, back at Alec’s side.

The shadowhunter clenched his fingers into the sheets beneath him, struggling for a grip, as Magnus pressed a damp cloth to Alec’s forehead. The bowl of cool water went to the bedside table. Alec set his jaw hard, eyes rolling fitfully beneath closed eyelids, fingers clawing against the mattress he lay on.

Magnus had seen it often enough in his own people to know what was happening.

Alec was dreaming. Magnus only hoped it was a good dream.

* * *

Alec was dreaming, though he didn’t know that yet.

He had dreamed before this one—not that he would remember—but none had been as terrifying as this. The others all had a third person view, looking on untouched as events unfolded before him; Jace leading a team of shadowhunters into a safehouse, Isabelle pitching her 'chamber' plan to their parents, Magnus, heavily outnumbered and fighting for his life.

Cleaned rough and careless by stranger’s hands, dressed all in red, shadowhunters flanked his sides as they led him down to the snowy courtyard. Alec’s heart was pounding. When the snow fell, it melted upon contact with his skin, sent drips of ice over his face and throat. He was already burning, though the flames hadn’t touched him yet.

“ _Alec Lightwood,_ ” a voiced called and Alec lifted his gaze to the cumulation of heavy, grey clouds, blinking as snowflakes fell to stick in his lashes. There was a strange light to the sky above, like silver cracking through the cloud layer, casting an eerie glow over the courtyard. It was deserted now.

Alec was alone.

“Raziel?” he asked the sky, unable to keep the tremor from his voice. A crash of thunder had him falling to his knees in the snow, crimson robes flowing around him, leaking into the white snow and staining it red. “Please…”

“ _You have sullied yourself with the demon-blooded. Your crimes are countless_.”

Alec shook his head. “No, I was trying to help them. You can’t tell me that slaughtering downworlders is what you wanted! Please, I can’t be alone in knowing this is wrong… I’m trying to save them!”

“ _And, for them, you have ruined yourself. Your people will_ never _accept your view of the demon’s children. You lived a traitor and you will die a traitor_.”

The flames hit his clothes first, but burned through quick to his skin, clawed into his flesh. Alec opened his mouth, but he couldn’t scream. His lips were numb. He didn’t know why he couldn’t scream. The pain was excruciating, agonising and his body burned right down to his core.

Something cool and damp pressed to his forehead and Alec moaned softly through opening his eyes. He might still be burning. He couldn’t see flames now, though. The edges of his vision were blurred, tunnelling in on a face gazing down at him. Golden eyes shone softly, dark pupils slit thinly down the centre.

“It’s okay, Alexander,” Magnus murmured gently, his arm moving in Alec’s peripheral and the cool dampness on his forehead shifted. “It’s okay. You have a fever.”

Alec’s eyes rolled unsteadily and his throat convulsed joltingly. It was difficult to swallow. “Fever…” he echoed in a mumble, just struggling to make sense of Magnus’s words. Somehow it wasn’t sinking it. It wasn’t making sense. “Fever,” Alec repeated dumbly, his brow furrowing.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s right.”

 _Sweetheart_. It echoed like a song stuck in his head. _Sweetheart_.

“Magnus…” Alec said, though it came out half a whisper. He needed to say this, he needed to give Magnus some warning, though he likely already knew that Alec was destined for death. “The Angel… he’s angry with me…”

Magnus shook his head. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice firm yet somehow so gentle. “Your Angel… I think he’d be _proud_ , Alec. You are everything a shadowhunter should have been—everything they could have been if this world had just been a little kinder.” He sighed softly. “I can’t speak for your Angel, but _I_ am proud of you.”

Unable to help himself, Alec frowned at him. He didn’t remember the last time someone had said that to him; he wondered for a moment if anyone had _ever_ said that to him. For Alec Lightwood to make someone proud, it was a ridiculous notion. Halfway to laughter and halfway to tears, Alec settled on simply turning his head against the pillows, fighting to hide his face from Magnus, feeling the heat sting his eyes.

“It’s alright, Alexander,” Magnus said, his voice barely more than a whisper now, but Alec knows it’s because he’s fading and not because Magnus’s voice had actually lowered. “It’s alright. I know you’re confused. You can just rest now, okay? I’ll watch over you.”

“I can’t feel you,” Alec mumbled, not entirely certain himself what he was trying to say. He just felt distant and disconnected and Magnus was here, but it was as if Alec was floating away from him. He didn’t want that. He wanted to stay. “Magnus, I want… want to be here… Can’t feel you…”

Magnus clicked his tongue softly. His hand slid beneath Alec’s own, squeezed gently, held him. “I’m here, sayang.”

Alec’s brow furrowed. “What’s…?”

“Sayang,” Magnus repeated, his fingers gently stroking Alec’s hair back from his forehead. “It’s Indonesian. It means darling, sweetheart, it’s just… it’s a term of endearment, Alexander. I…” His voice cracked in grief and the frown upon Alec’s expression deepened. “I need you to be okay, Alec. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

Even in his fevered state, Alec wanted so desperately to comfort him, to pull Magnus close and kiss him and tell him everything would be okay. He just managed to curl his fingers tighter into Magnus’s hand, fighting to ground himself. He needed to be okay, for Magnus.

It wasn’t true though, Alec’s mind hissed at him. Magnus was lying to himself and to Alec because he didn’t _need_ anyone. Magnus was strong and independent and he had been doing this without Alec a lot longer than he had been doing it _with_ Alec. Magnus didn’t need him. He didn’t need him.

“Don’t say that,” Magnus soothed and Alec frowned, unaware that he had spoken aloud.

Still, it didn’t matter so much in the end. Alec could feel the darkness pressing in behind his eyes. He barely managed to part his lips, though he wasn’t certain what he was going to say. As it turned out, he didn’t have to say anything. The bed shifted slightly beneath him and cool lips pressed to his temple.

“It’s going to be alright, Alexander,” Magnus said, his fingers stroking back damp locks of dark hair. “You’ll feel better when you wake up and I'll be right here with you... I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may also (only slightly ashamedly) stick a promotion for my new-ish multi-chapter: A Prince of Gold and Glass. It's just not getting a lot of traction, so any feedback would be fab (obviously no pressure). Thanks!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec wakes alone in his apartment to nothing but a note. Magnus isn't with him and the reason is enough to have Alec following his warlock once more into danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who left comments: @Nanuko8, @Vallier, @emi_isabelle, @Adaline_Blooms, @Katherine_Grant_Cordell, @master_girl, @gaydaractivate04, @Useless_Noodle, and @Liekinloimu!
> 
> WARNING: this one is... dark, okay? I've been kind of talking about the gas chamber in passing, but now we're experiencing it, so brace yourselves and please be careful.

The nights were indistinguishable from the days and Alec slept fitfully.

He dreamed of The Gard, of his brother and sister slaughtering downworlders, of Magnus’s death. So often now, he dreamed of the warlock’s demise. Caught by Jace’s seraph blade or cut down by unnamed shadowhunters or, angel forbid, felled by Alec’s own arrows, Magnus would fall and bleed out and die and Alec would try to scream, but nothing ever came out.

Unconsciousness stayed all through Magnus treating him, all through his soft whispers—he wouldn’t even remember speaking or showing any signs of consciousness in the slightest—and, when he woke it was in a shuddering inhale and a clench of his fingers into the sheets below him.

“Magnus,” he gasped, almost a shout, though subdued halfway when he realised where he was.

The apartment was his own and he was alone. His side ached and he lifted a shaky hand to touch the bandages wrapped around his abdomen, frowning softly because the whole room smelled of some very strong herbal fragrances. Everything came rushing back then. Considering his injury, Alec expected worse. He had half expected to wake naked in an alleyway, covered in blood after turning and killing. Perhaps he half expected to never wake at all.

Magnus had been with him through every moment of consciousness that Alec could remember—which, in all honesty, was next to nothing—but he wasn’t here now.

Frowning his anxiety, Alec turned his head to glance around the room and his eyes fell on a scrap of paper on the bedside table, pinned down with the edge of a glass of water. It was an elegant hand, but rushed, and he knew that Magnus had written it, solely because he was the only one who could have done so. Sliding the glass from it, Alec drew it forward to his lap, squinting down at the words.

_Alexander,_

_I’m sorry but I’ve been called away. Simon has been caught by shadowhunters and they’re going to execute him tomorrow night.  
I have to help him. I know you understand that._

_Please, don’t worry about me. I may yet be back before you wake to read this._

_I love you._

Alec clenched his jaw, glanced to the clock on his bedside table. It was getting to the evening and Magnus wasn’t back yet. Alec remembered enough to know that he had written this yesterday. _This_ evening was the evening he was referring to in the note. If he wasn’t back by now…

Getting to his feet sent a shot of pain through his side and Alec grimaced out a soft hiss, pressing a hand to his ribs with his brow furrowed in agony. His determination slashed through any pain, however. Magnus was in trouble. He could feel it in his heart, in the heaviness on his chest, the tightness in his gut.

His wound be damned, Alec would _not_ allow The Clave to kill downworlders this evening. Simon may be a vampire, but he was still younger than Alec. If he died tonight, he always would be. As sick as he felt—both at the discomfort of his wound and the potential of Magnus and the other downworlders being slaughtered—Alec cannot sit back and do nothing while they are murdered.

If it meant his death, so be it. He would rather succumb to his wound or be sent to The Gard than live with the knowledge of Magnus’s demise.

* * *

The door was unyielding beneath his strength and Magnus wished more than anything that he could have access to his magic.

His knuckles were bloody and torn from hammering at the door. He was tired and weak and he shifted his shoulders to try and force the sting from his back. Despite his magic and Alec’s care, the injuries he had received from the shadowhunter’s whip still ached and burned all across his back.

The circumstances didn’t help.

The room was greying and smelled somehow sweet and musty all at once. The doors were locked from the outside and the ceiling was set with a sprinkler system, but Magnus knew as well as anyone in the room that it wasn’t water that would spew from those pipes. With him were three other downworlders.

A werewolf who Magnus knew only by Charlie was pacing restlessly, teeth baring every so often, clenching their hands into fists at their sides in frustration. They were trying to turn. Magnus knew that. He also knew that they had no chance in hell of slipping into their wolf form; not while they were trapped in the institute like this.

Simon was there too, Raphael beside him, trying to keep him calm. It wasn’t an easy task. Simon was verging on a panic attack almost constantly. Raphael was only here to try and break him out, but he had failed as Magnus had failed and Simon blamed himself as he always did.

It wasn’t just that, however.

It was everything. The chamber they were in had a long and horrific history, for Simon especially; this boy who came from such a long line of survivors was rightly terrified of being murdered as his people had been murdered so many years ago. His face was buried in Raphael’s neck, breathing shakily, and Magnus was determined to get him out—to get all of them out.

“It’s going to be okay,” Raphael kept muttering, his arms tight around Simon. “We’re going to be okay.”

Magnus gritted his teeth and turned back to the door because he couldn’t take this anymore. These were his people. They were his _family_. If there was one thing he knew, it was that there was nothing Magnus wouldn’t do to protect his family. He would die trying to save them if he had to.

The door opened and Magnus braced himself to fight, knowing that he would lose. His magic was repressed here inside the walls of the institute, but he would rather die choking on blood than gas.

The shadowhunter who stepped through that door made him falter.

He was halfway to speaking when he cut himself off because he knew that face, those eyes. She was older now, almost a decade older than when they had first met, but it was definitely her and she was dragging a downworlder behind her, a seelie that Magnus knew as Meliorn.

Magnus lunged to catch him when he was thrown forward into the room, bracing against him and holding him upright. Dark eyes caught his own. Magnus stared. Isabelle winked.

Then, she was gone.

“I’m fine,” Meliorn said, though he was leaning heavily against Magnus’s side.

Magnus shook his head. “Let’s get you sat down, okay?”

He eyed the door as he was settling Meliorn down to lean back against the wall. He hadn’t seen Isabelle in years. She had been a child when they met and, now, she was a grown woman. People can change. For all Magnus knew, Isabelle had been working against the downworld for years.

There was no escaping now, however; he had missed his chance to overpower the shadowhunter. All he could do now was hope that Isabelle’s wink meant something. Perhaps all the shadowhunter’s talk was wrong, all of Alec’s warnings about a gas chamber. Maybe he just didn’t know what Isabelle was up to. Maybe no one did.

It was insane to pin his hopes on the throwaway wink of a woman he hadn’t seen in years. He had no other choice, however. There was no escape from the chamber. Magnus had tried everything during his imprisonment. It had been almost a full day now and, still, he had made no progress.

Perhaps it had been presumptuous of him to believe that he could free his people from a place like this. Although, Raphael had done the exact same thing, barely stopping to send Magnus a text before he was throwing himself into the institute to rescue Simon. He got that from Magnus. The warlock had practically raised him after all. It was only natural that some of his traits had rubbed off on the vampire.

There was a rushing sound like the exhale of a great beast, and Magnus glanced up to see a translucent-like mist rushing from the sprinkler system over their heads. It tickled his throat, sickeningly sweet, and Magnus coughed against it instinctively, lifting an arm to cover his mouth and nose. Charlie stepped back, shocked eyes lifting to the ceiling. Raphael dragged Simon aside too, each of them doing whatever they could to get away from the gas.

“Rafe, don’t,” Simon pleaded as Raphael put himself firmly forward, holding the younger vampire behind him, like he could act as a shield somehow.

Against the wall, Meliorn was coughing and collapsing down to his hands and Magnus ran to him, but the seelie pushed him away, casting him a wide-eyed look of poorly disguised panic. Magnus did as he was bid, his body racked with shuddering coughs as the gas choked his lungs. Meliorn was slumping to the floor, Raphael the same. Magnus’s mind was foggy and pained and he tried to help Charlie as they fell, but it was no good.

All he could do was ease the werewolf to the floor, stumble back as he fought his own coughs, bumping straight back into Simon. The young vampire clutched his jacket and stared up at him and Magnus couldn’t do anything. He was powerless to help, unable to do anything to ease the panic and the fear in Simon’s eyes.

“Magnus,” Simon gasped, one hand clutching his throat.

“I’ve got you,” Magnus said, held the young vampire as his knees gave out and he sunk to the ground. “Don’t fight it. It’ll be alright.”

Simon stared up at him with wide eyes, bright with fear and round with innocence. “I don’t want… to die like this,” he uttered, panic glinting his eyes. “Please, Magnus… not like this…”

“It’s okay,” Magnus promised, dizzy now. “It’s okay. Don’t fight.”

Shaking his head, Simon’s eyes were practically closed. “Not like this…” he pleaded and Magnus let him gently slide to the floor. “Not this…”

Magnus collapsed beside him, rolled onto his back, breathing shakily and coughing so hard he saw white pinpricks of light in the darkness threatening to cloud the edges of his vision. His mind was overcome with fatigue, with fog, and it was dragging him down further and further into the endless black and, god, this was it.

Everything he had been through, every second he had fought, every person he had lost, it all meant nothing. It was meaningless now, because this was it. This was his end. The great Magnus Bane, the son of Asmodeus, the rebel leader of the downworld... The Clave would erase him and all memory of him would be smothered along with the lives of his people. He had been in this world for so long, it felt strange to be leaving it behind in favour of the dark.

Alec would never forgive him.

It was the last thought that crossed his mind before he was lost once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update and the short chapter - this story has been fighting me.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec infiltrates the institute in search of Magnus and the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @dadhatedcaffeine, @dani_dabbles, @kokomi33, @Adaline_Blooms, @Katherine_Grant_Cordell, @master_girl, and @Vallier for your comments on the last chapter! Massively appreciate your kind and motivational words!

Alec strode through the institute with no shortage of anxiety, his steps wide and certain, fighting to hide the panic from his expression.

Not one person so much as glanced his way, but that was preferred. It was also expected. Alec was expendable. That was how most would likely describe him; except perhaps Jace and maybe Isabelle on a good day. Alec did not agree with his brother’s views or his actions, but he was all Alec had in terms of shadowhunter friends.

It had been said that Jace liked having him around as an ego-boost. Alec could see it. Jace was the golden boy, his hatred of downworlders and his skill with a blade ensured that he was easily the favourite child, despite sharing exactly no DNA with either Maryse or Robert. Jace’s aversion to downworlders was founded on something solid, unlike most shadowhunters who followed The Clave blindly. His mother’s corpse had been savaged by werewolves after all.

The starving creatures had paid for it with their lives, but Jace had never forgiven the downworld. It had fuelled his bloodlust his entire life. Alec still saw no excuse for his brother to be doing the things he did to downworlders, to hate every one of them, to _kill_ them for an incident that had occurred decades ago.

The trip down to the chamber wasn’t far, but it felt like the longest few minutes of Alec’s life. He could hear the engines whirring as soon as the elevator doors opened and, panic taking over, he immediately broke into a run. A few shadowhunters were heading for the elevator and Alec pushed through them, almost knocking one to the ground, ignoring the angry shout that rang after him down the hallway.

They wouldn’t follow it up. They will have forgotten about it by the time they got in the elevator. Alec was forgettable.

Turning the corner in half a skid, Alec’s eyes flitted up to the door at the end of the hallway, despairing to see that the light situated above the door was a deep, uninviting red. The chamber was on and the door was locked. Alec’s heart sunk into his stomach, faltering in his haste. He couldn't stop, however. He had to turn the machine off, to force the door open, to do _something_.

There was no need for force. The light above the door was turning white by the time Alec reached it and he immediately shoved it open.

The sight before him made him want to collapse. There were bodies strewn lifelessly across the floor, eyes closed and unmoving and, worst of all, Alec recognised some of them.

Seeing Raphael and Simon was bad enough—Alec had accommodated them at his apartment a number of times now and they had become almost familiar with one another—but his worst fear was right in front of him. Heat rushed his eyes and he couldn’t run anymore. He could barely walk; it just came in a stumble and a trip to his knees beside the body.

The warlock was sprawled on his side, his eyes closed, expression still and slack; peaceful in death.

“Magnus,” Alec whispered, his hand shakily coming to rest against the side of Magnus’s head. “Magnus… god, no… please…”

It was wrong. Everything they had been through, everything _Magnus_ had done and fought for, and it ended like this. Tears burned Alec’s eyes and he let them fall, ducking his head as a tremor of grief shook his chest in a sob. He would kill them for this. Isabelle and Jace and their father, every shadowhunter who mindlessly slaughtered those with demon blood, he would stop them all, or—more likely—he would die trying.

His hand came to tilt Magnus’s head, desperate to look upon his face once more, yet pausing when a soft breath stirred against his wrist. His eyes blew wide because it couldn’t be, because Magnus was surely dead; Isabelle had killed him as she killed all the others who were forced into this room. His fingers searched shakily for a pulse, exhaling hard in relief when he found one almost immediately. Pushing Magnus’s hair back with one hand, Alec leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, hand lifting to brush the tears from his cheeks, “it’s alright, Magnus. I’m going to get you out of here. Just hold on.”

“Alec?”

The voice was startled and Alec froze.

Turning his head, he saw Isabelle stood in the before the open door behind him, but she closed it quickly enough, shutting them in. Her eyes were wide with shock. Alec had to assume that she didn’t intend for Magnus to live. Perhaps his magic was too powerful for the gas to kill him, perhaps it was just enough to knock him out, perhaps Isabelle was here to finish the job.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Isabelle asked, starting forward, and Alec stood, fluidly casting his seraph blade out as he turned, standing protectively in front of Magnus. It made her stop at least.

“I won’t let you kill him.” _Even if it means having to kill her…?_ Alec closed his eyes briefly, determination filling his heart when he opened them again to stare at his sister. “I’m sorry, Izzy, but I can’t let you hurt him.”

Isabelle blinked hard, her gaze looking him up and down. “By the Angel, it’s you... You’re the—”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Alec said, swallowed hard and readjusted his grip on the blade, “but I will if that’s what it takes.”

Isabelle huffed out in something akin to amusement. “I was going to say you’re the other traitor.” She looked to Magnus and the others. “They’re fine. They’re just sleeping.”

Alec’s brain couldn’t handle this. He kept his blade high. “You’re an executioner, Iz,” he said, trying to muddle through everything that was being insinuated. “The downworlders that are brought in here... You gas them and you burn them.”

“I’ve never killed a downworlder,” said Isabelle, lifting her head to meet her brother’s gaze. “Sleeping gas. No one ever bothers to check. They leave me to it. I get them out, tell dad that I incinerated them. I never have to prove it because there’s never anything left... Dad likes his trinkets. Sometimes I have to ask for something in proof.”

“Okay, hang on,” Alec said, waving a hand. “Hold on, my head is about to explode. Are you telling me that we could’ve been working together this whole time?”

Isabelle pouted in thought. “I didn’t know about you either...”

Alec scoffed, but the amusement drained when Magnus groaned and Alec looked back to see him stirring. “Hey,” he soothed as he knelt, two fingers pressing to Magnus’s chin, tilting his head up. “Magnus, can you hear me?”

“He’s okay,” Isabelle assured. “He’ll take a minute or two to come round.”

Clenching his jaw, Alec kept his hands on Magnus, kept staring down at him, desperate to ensure he was still breathing, that his heart was still beating, that Isabelle wouldn’t try anything. This could all still be a trick.

Still, Magnus struggled back to consciousness without disruption. Alec ensured that his was the face that Magnus saw when his eyes opened, but the warlock still came to groggy and confused and Alec had to hold him still when he tried to sit up straight away. It was abrupt enough that it made Magnus’s eyes roll and forced him to collapse back to the floor, albeit with Alec cradling the back of his head so it didn’t crack on the ground.

“It’s okay,” he said, forced a smile. “It’s okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Alec,” Magnus mumbled, coughed and made Alec wince softly. “The gas…”

Alec shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s not real. It’s fine… Here, sit up for me, okay?”

“Rafe…”

Alec glanced back, his eyes falling to the vampire that Magnus asked after, finding it curious that Magnus singled him out. Thankfully, Raphael was stirring too, along with most others in the room. Only the seelie slumped up against the wall appeared unmoving. Concern rose in Alec’s chest and he cast a hard look to Isabelle.

“Check on them,” he said, not stopping to think that he was giving someone an order.

She did as she was told, going to the seelie first. Alec leaned over to check Simon’s pulse, as his wrist was in arm’s reach. The young vampire was twitching and mumbling. His pulse was strong, steady against Alec’s fingertips and he breathed a soft sigh of relief.

“Meliorn’s wounded,” said Isabelle, and Alec glanced to see her returning to Magnus’s side, helping him to his feet.

Alec rose with them, his hand bracing to Magnus’s back, fighting not to be too possessive. “How bad?”

“He’s unconscious,” Isabelle muttered, ducked her head a little to get a better look at Magnus’s face. “Hey, you with us?”

Magnus screwed his eyes shut tightly for a moment, a soft groan wrenching from his lips. “Isabelle…?” he grumbled, squinting up at her when she smiled. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked, leaning to Alec’s sister, letting her take his weight, _choosing_ her to support him.

“Around,” Isabelle said with a weak smile. “Keeping an eye on things…”

Magnus huffed softly, cast her a side-eyed glance. “You look good.”

“Thanks. You look like crap.”

Magnus chuckled and Isabelle smiled at him, but Alec didn’t see the amusement in the slightest. He had come so close to losing the warlock. As well as that—as loathe as he was to admit it—something stirred in him to hear Magnus saying things like that to another person.

Jealousy was a god-awful emotion.

“Alec,” Isabelle said, drawing his attention. She tilted her head towards the wall. “Can you bring Meliorn?”

Alec sniffed and exhaled sharply. “Yeah,” he said. “We’ll head for my apartment. Will they make it?”

“The effects will wear off completely in a minute. They’ll be fine.”

Unsure of how much he believed, but having little alternative choice but to trust her, Alec strode to the seelie, gave him a quick once-over and found a gash over the side of his head. Nothing serious, but he couldn’t go anywhere himself while unconscious. Alec pulled the seelie’s body over his shoulders, rose to his feet with Meliorn draped limply over him.

Isabelle had gotten the others to their feet by the time he went back to them, and the downworlders were standing unaided. His sister led them outside, a false wall giving them escape to the outside of the institute. Magnus tailed the back of the group to help any stragglers.

Alec couldn’t help but glance back to him every so often, but the warlock wouldn’t look his way, too concerned with his people to give Alec any notice. Later then, Alec vowed to himself; he and Magnus would talk later. More important than Alec’s pride or his insecurities, more important than anything, was Magnus. He had almost died.

Alec needed to make sure he was alright.

* * *

The bedroom door closed in silence and Alec could let some of the tension leave him then.

He got Meliorn into the apartment, into one of the bedrooms. The seelie woke long enough for Alec to explain to him what had happened, that he was safe and that he needed to rest and heal. Meliorn hadn’t fought him, just thanked him quietly and fallen back asleep.

Now, when Alec exited the bedroom and cast a quick look around, he panicked to see that the others were nowhere in sight.

“Izzy?” he asked into the darkness, struggling to fight back the tremor in his voice. “Magnus?”

“Alexander,” a familiar voice called softly to him from the darkness and Alec looked to the side to see Magnus in the kitchen. “The others are gone. Isabelle is escorting them back to their families, or their friends… or whoever they have left. I’ll do the same with Meliorn when he’s recovered.”

Blinking hard in the darkness, Alec reached for the light switch, regretting it immediately when a warm glow washed the room and Magnus ducked his head away. It didn’t stop Alec from seeing the flush of the skin around his eyes, the gloss of tears making his cat eyes shine.

“Hey,” he murmured, coming forward and gently holding Magnus’s cheek in one hand. “I know you’ve been through a lot today. Come and sit down with me, okay? We can talk.”

Magnus shook his head, yet allowed Alec to lead him to the sofa and guide him into sitting. “I don’t want to talk about this, Alec. Not… Not this. Not yet.” When Alec thought to argue, Magnus only had to look at him to get him rethinking. His eyes were bright with grief. “Please,” he said softly. “Just… can we talk about something else? About Isabelle? Did you know she was helping the downworld?”

Alec took pause at that. “No, I didn't,” he admitted, and his mind was regressing back to that bitter feeling of worthlessness. He didn’t sit with Magnus, despite the warlock keeping hold of his hand. “How long have you known her?” Alec asked, fighting to quash the accusatory clip to his words.

It seeped through anyway and Magnus gave him a curious look, frowning softly. “I met her almost a decade ago. She saved my life… Why do you ask… and why did you say it like that?” Alec hesitated a moment and Magnus tilted his head. “You know her well, don’t you?”

“She’s my sister,” Alec muttered.

“Your sister,” Magnus echoed, like he somehow wasn’t surprised. He eyed Alec with mostly concealed interest. “Well… that explains a lot.”

Alec scoffed and turned his head away, not wishing for Magnus to see this side of him. Magnus got to his feet at that, breathing out slowly and Alec held his waist, still afraid that the warlock was feeling the effects of the chamber. Magnus waved him off, gently placing a hand to Alec’s upper arm and running light fingers down his skin.

“Talk to me,” he requested.

Alec huffed and glanced away. “I feel…” he began and shook his head, scoffed. “Magnus, my sister has a reputation. I just… I feel strange trusting her. I was there when she pitched the chamber to my father. I can’t believe that she’s on the side of the downworld. She’s never been as bad as Jace, but she isn’t someone I trust. Not with your life or the lives of your people.”

“Alec, your sister,” Magnus muttered, looking Alec up and down, “if she’s anything like you, then I think we should give her the benefit of the doubt… She saved me and my people from certain death tonight.”

“Yeah, well, good for her.”

Magnus gave him a curious look, tilted his head a little, and Alec knew he would have to explain himself. The truth was, he didn’t like sharing Magnus. He knew that the more shadowhunters on the side of the downworld the better, but it felt strange to know that someone was supporting him. As well as that, it sounded as though Isabelle had known Magnus longer than he had.

“Alexander,” Magnus said and his voice came slow and deliberate. “Are you… jealous?”

A startled scoff left Alec’s lips, but Magnus apparently saw right through him because he blinked hard, realisation dawning in those golden eyes. It was unusual for Alec to be so transparent, particularly considering what he risked every day, but he couldn’t hide from Magnus. The warlock knew him better than anyone.

Alec shook his head. “I’m not… I’m not jealous. I…” He paused a moment, struggling to find an explanation that didn’t make him sound as such. “I’m used to being alone in this. Izzy… she never relished in killing, but she didn’t shy from it either. I thought she was indifferent to it all and now I find out that she’s better than me at this too. It’s just—”

“Better than you?” Magnus echoed through a frown.

Alec breathed out slowly. “You said you’ve known her for a decade. I’ve known you… what, just a little more than half that time? She was helping you while I was still listening to my father.”

Shaking his head, Magnus lifted a hand to Alec’s arm. “It’s not a competition. The important thing is that you got to this point… You both changed. That’s what matters.”

“Not fast enough,” Alec muttered, swallowed hard and ducking his head a little. He couldn’t bear to meet Magnus’s eyes. “I…”

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to speak those words aloud, to tell Magnus what he did in his youth when he believed in The Clave. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in Magnus’s eyes. It was cowardly of him to be averse to speaking of it.

“When you’re ready,” began Magnus, his fingers lightly stroking down Alec’s arm, “you can talk to me… I’m here and I’m not going to judge you or ridicule you. Just… when you’re ready, okay?”

Alec nodded, struggling on a swallow when it got stuck halfway down his throat. “Can I kiss you?” was all that he managed to say and it didn’t make any sense because _why_ would Magnus want to kiss him now. It felt pathetic, saying what he had about Isabelle and spreading his insecurities to Magnus like a virus.

In answer, Magnus’s eyes narrowed. Alec couldn’t tell if it was pity or sympathy or fondness, but there wasn’t time to debate it before Magnus was leaning up to claim his mouth sweetly. Alec almost sobbed into it, but he restrained his grief, clutched Magnus’s waist and kept him close.

“I love you,” he murmured when their lips broke, and his forehead leaned forward to rest against Magnus’s own.

Magnus gave a soft sigh, content and calm. “I love you too.”

He sunk into Alec then, their chests pressing flush together and his face burying in the crook of Alec’s neck, like all the energy drained from him, and Alec wrapped him in a tight hug, closing his eyes tightly. Magnus had been through so much already. Both of them had believed he would die tonight.

Alec couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

His hand lifted to cradle the back of Magnus’s head, holding him as close as possible. His scent was salt and sweat and dirt and Alec wished that it could be different, but it wasn’t. Magnus would be running forever. Alec would do anything for it not to be so.

“Can you stay tonight?” Alec asked, thinking mostly of Magnus’s unwavering duty to his people, but also for what would be best for Magnus himself.

Magnus didn’t move from the shadowhunter’s embrace. “Yes,” he said, pressing closer—as close as possible now. “Yes, I’ll stay with you, Alexander.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a decade-old memory, Alec makes his first downworlder kill. In the present day, Alec and Magnus seek to comfort and be comforted by one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my recent commenters: @Adaline_Blooms, @Vallier, @gaydaractivate04, @master_girl, @Maryliz2121, and @MrsGibbs87! Your kind words mean so much to me and I honestly don't know what I'd do without you!

* * *

_Eleven Years Ago..._

* * *

It was with a bow in his hand and a heart full of hate that Alec Lightwood followed his team into the vampire nest.

Just a boy, barely twelve years old, corrupted by his parents and his people, Alec fired his arrows at oncoming downworlders. A shot of magic stayed his arrows, every one of them, and he turned in panic, shot back with a blast of crimson. Managing to remain of his feet, Alec barely had time to lift his weapon before it was being cast to the ground, his bow falling with a clatter, the arrow he had nocked catching between his trembling fingers. A hand closed around his arm, shoving him back into the wall and he stared up at a woman with fangs, but not those of a vampire. They were cat’s teeth.

“You stupid boy,” she snarled and magic lit her hand and burned through the sleeve of Alec’s hoodie right down into his skin. He cried out in pain, fighting to escape, but she held him tight. “You can serve as a nice example to your people.”

Magic lit her hand, descending to his face and, in his panic, Alec lashed out, slashed at her with the arrow fisted in his hand. The warlock’s throat opened, first in a neat line, then in a gush of blood and a choked scream and Alec couldn’t tell which one of them gave it. A hot shower of of blood rained across his face.

Alec took a step back, shaking, watching the warlock drop to her knees, clutching uselessly at her throat as blood spilled out between her fingers. She stared at Alec, stared at him like she hadn’t just been about to kill him, like _he_ was the monster; this child with his runes and his weapons and too much power with too little sense.

A hand grabbed his arm and shook hard and Alec turned to find his mother there, gazing at him like he had done the only thing she ever wanted of him. “Your first kill!” she exclaimed, elated. “Sweetheart, do you know who that was? Look, do you recognise her?”

Alec swallowed hard, did as his mother wished, though she had to guide his head. He tried to ignore the dying wails of downworlders around him, elected to focus on obeying his mother. The warlock was lying down now, unmoving aside from the blood still trailing from the gash in her throat. Her hair was red, her cat’s teeth bared in a death-snarl. Alec didn’t recognise her, particularly now.

“She doesn’t… look like a person anymore,” he said shakily because it’s what he saw. She looked pale and sunken. She looked _wrong_.

His mother clicked her tongue. “She was _never_ a person, Alec. She was a warlock. Iris Rouse. You’ve done a great service by dispatching her.”

“She was a warlock,” said Alec, remembering her name in all those briefings. It was eerily quiet around him now; his voice sounded too loud in the aftermath of screams and snarls. “She… She kept houses to breed new warlocks. She wanted to use them to start another uprising.”

“Thanks to you, she will never succeed.”

Alec knew he should be proud, that he should be lording this over Jace already; Angel knows his adopted brother would do the same if it were him who had made this kill. As he tailed his mother around the nest, however, he couldn’t bring himself to feel proud or haughty. Bodies were strewn across the floor, slumped against the walls. Blood pooled dark on the floor, sprayed and speckled the walls. Alec could feel it still on his face.

“Mother,” he tried, but his voice came small and Maryse waved her dismissal, focused now on the others of their team, grinning and wiping their blades on the clothes of the downworlders they had slaughtered just moments before. “Mother, can we leave now?”

Maryse turned to him, a frown on her face as she scanned her son. A hint of recognition crossed her gaze. Pulling a cloth from her pocket, she knelt in front of Alec and beginning to wipe the blood from his face. “None of this is yours, is it?” she asked and Alec shook his head. It didn’t escape his attention that she didn’t seem to notice the burn on his arm. “You need to get used to this, Alec. Hunting is messy.”

Alec swallowed hard, lowering his gaze and his voice, meaning his words only for his mother. “I don’t want to hunt,” he whispered.

Maryse paused, the cloth slowly lowering from Alec’s face. It was better than the reaction he was expecting; he had been half expecting for her to strike him. “Alec,” she said, gentler than he was ready for. “You’re a shadowhunter. It’s in your blood to hunt… You don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t like killing…”

“Learn to,” her advice came sharper this time, like she was sick of being gentle with him, as if even mere seconds of affection was too much for her to stomach.

Alec ducked his head, the stench of blood in his nose and the sting of tears in his eyes. He was not a son here, under his mother’s eye. He was not a child. He was a shadowhunter, an angelic warrior expected to cleanse this world of those who held even a drop of demonic blood in their veins.

He lifted his eyes to Maryse’s flinted stare. “Yes, mother.”

He was a solider—and soldiers did as they were told. The wails of downworlders echoed in his ears, their dying screams consuming his mind until he thought his skull might split open from the sheer agony of the sounds. _It was necessary_ , Alec's thoughts tried to justify the slaughter, though it sounded suspiciously like his mother's voice. _It was Clave orders._ Alec saw her dying again in his mind's eyes; the warlock woman. _This is right._ His mother's prideful voice echoed in his mind, her delight at his first kill, just a child. _It was necessary._ Blood rained down on his face, the metallic taste splashing his tongue.

Alec's lips parted tremblingly, but he couldn't even scream.

* * *

_Present Day_

* * *

A crash of thunder jolted Alec to consciousness, but the sound from his lips came louder than the storm and he couldn’t stop. Strong hands grabbed him, clutched him, but he couldn’t reciprocate the touch.

He couldn’t stop screaming.

Death was haunting him, crowding him like shadows at dusk. The copper tang of downworlder blood was still in his nose, on his tongue. He could taste it when he screamed. It mixed sickeningly with the salt-sting of his own tears, though he had no right to grieve. He was the one who had killed them.

Magnus was holding him, hushing him quick and desperate, like he couldn’t bear to hear the sounds shredding from the shadowhunter’s throat. Alec just clawed at him, screaming, crying, slowly and agonisingly convincing himself that it was a dream and nothing more. It had felt so real. It _had_ been real, of course. It had happened exactly as his dream played out.

“Alec, breathe,” Magnus urged when his screams had lapsed, but he sounded so far away and the panic alone was enough for Alec to find his limbs, to grab Magnus and claw his fingers into the warlock’s shirt, fighting to ground himself. “Alec, listen to me, you need to breathe now, okay? It was just a nightmare. You need to breathe.”

“I killed them,” Alec gasped, dreading that Magnus would hate him, _desperate_ for Magnus to hate him because somebody had to. “Magnus, you don’t understand… You don’t understand…!”

Magnus shook his head. “Alec,” he said and Alec broke down into another series of sobs simply at the tone of his voice. He wasn’t angry. He was kind. “I do understand. I know what The Clave ordered you to do. I know that when you were young it made sense because it was all you knew.”

Alec sobbed and tried to push him away. “Don’t defend me!”

“Alec, stop,” Magnus murmured, held him steady as he thrashed. It didn’t take much to keep him still. Alec’s heart wasn’t in it. “Stop… We’ve all done things we regret. It’s okay.”

The breath shuddered in Alec’s throat when he inhaled. “I killed people, Magnus. _Your_ people.”

“I’ve killed people too, Alec,” Magnus said, a hand coming to stroke through Alec’s hair. “Innocent people. It doesn’t make me a monster. It makes me human because we get scared and we lash out. We make mistakes. Everyone does… Some of them are harder to live with than others.”

Alec swallowed hard. “I should be punished.”

“No, Alec, you shouldn’t. You aren’t that person anymore. You’re not guilty of anything… You are good, do you hear me? You’ve saved so many people.”

Alec shook his head. “It’s not enough,” he whispered.

“It _is_ , Alexander. It’s so much more than you realise.” Magnus kissed his brow, reached his hand out and pressed it over the bandage fixed over Alec’s injury—the one Bartholomew had given him in his wolf form. “Do you see this, love…? This body is living proof of the sacrifices you have made for the downworld; the danger you’ve put yourself in for us.”

Alec palmed his hand high on his cheeks, pushing the tears back. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through,” he uttered, swallowing a sob. “Magnus, what my father ordered to have done to you… the whip… the chamber—”

“Shh,” Magnus hushed, though it was a little strained and Alec closed his eyes because he knew that Magnus hadn’t yet recovered from either of those ordeals. “I’m okay, do you hear me…? Alexander—” Magnus pressed his hand beneath Alec’s chin, guiding his head up “—look at me, I’m fine.”

Alec sat himself up, close still to Magnus, facing him cross-legged on the bed. “Will you show me…?” he asked, reaching for Magnus’s face, tracing his fingertips along the curve of Magnus’s temple, staring into his cat eyes, glowing even now in the watery moonlight. “I understand if you don’t want to, but I want… I want to see you.”

Magnus nodded shortly, leaned into Alec’s touch just so briefly before he reached a hand behind his head, hooking a thumb into the neck of his shirt and tugging it up over his head, shedding the clothing and discarding it to the side in one fluid movement.

Alec stared openly at his chest.

His dark skin was littered with scars. Alec knew this already. Magnus had been through so much, _too much_ , and he bore the marks of all his years of fighting. Alec lifted a hand to his chest, his fingers fanned over Magnus’s heart, feeling the beat of it; faster than any shadowhunter’s, compliments of the magic running through his veins, the power there in his heart.

“Look at you,” he whispered, shuddering through an inhale. “God, Magnus, you’re so brave… You’ve been through so much.”

Magnus closed his hand over Alec’s own, holding him against his chest. “We both have,” he said. “And we’ll likely go through more before this is over. Worse, probably.” His grip tightened on Alec’s hand, lifting it, ducking his head to kiss the shadowhunter’s knuckles. “I’ve been ready for death for a very long time now. I was ready for it when I took those lashes. I was ready for it in the gas chamber… I’m ready now.” He smiled softly. “I would die happy now, if I could die with you.”

“Don’t say that,” Alec murmured, shaking his head. “Please, I don’t want to hear that.”

Tilting his head, Magnus quirked him a soft smile. “Do you want to hear _this_?” he asked, clasping either side of Alec’s neck and leaning in close. “I love you.”

Alec sniffed back any lingering grief he still held. “I love you too.”

Magnus kissed him.

It was _more_ this time, more than he’d ever kissed before, like Alec’s mouth was air and Magnus was drowning. The thought scared Alec more than he’d care to admit. So, he let Magnus take control, giving in under the warlock’s strength and certainty. When he had to break for air, Magnus didn’t stop. Alec breathed hard over the warlock’s shoulder as Magnus laid attention to the side of his neck.

At the new position, Alec’s gaze fell down Magnus’s back and his heart clenched in his chest, pulling out of the embrace. Magnus stared up at him, eyes round with anxiety.

“Alec…”

“I can’t watch you get hurt again,” Alec whispered, the image of the scars across Magnus’s back burned into his mind, “and you said it’ll get worse. I can’t imagine anything being worse. I can’t fathom a worse feeling than thinking you were dead in that chamber. It _can’t_ get worse. I can’t take it.”

Magnus shook his head, lifting a hand to Alec’s cheek. “Then turn away from it… You don’t have to be involved in the downworld, Alexander. You’ve helped us so much already… It’s okay if you don’t want to do it anymore. It’s okay if you need to stop. No one would blame you. You deserve to rest.”

“I can’t stop,” said Alec. “You can’t rest, so neither can I.”

“You don’t have to live your life for anyone else… You shouldn’t.”

“I am,” Alec insisted, shook his head and clutched Magnus’s wrist. “I’m living for you, Magnus…”

Releasing his wrist, Alec gently set a hand to Magnus’s shoulder, his fingertips skating across his shoulder blade, feeling the scars there. Magnus lifted his head, proud almost, and Alec narrowed his eyes. He hated that Magnus felt the need to do that, that he felt as though he needed to be strong all the time, that he felt as though he needed to pretend.

“How long are you staying?” Alec settled on asking, rather than giving into his sorrow.

Magnus shook his head. “I don’t know,” he uttered, lifting his hands and allowing his wrists to link at the nape of Alec’s neck. “As long as I can… if you’ll have me.”

“‘If I’ll have you’,” Alec echoed, breathless with disbelief. “Magnus, of course I’ll have you. I’d… I’d have you forever.”

Magnus chuckled, but it came strained. “Be careful what you wish for, Alexander,” he said, a sad look in his eyes. “I am immortal, remember…? For me, forever isn’t just a wishful concept.” He sighed softly, leaning forward so his forehead pressed against Alec’s own. “You can’t have me forever… You aren’t forever.”

“I know,” said Alec, swallowed hard. “I wish I was… I wish I had been here for you before.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted me,” Magnus uttered. “I wasn’t always this person. I killed dozens at the uprising… and, before, when I was younger… Alec, if you knew half of what I’ve done—”

“I don’t care who you were,” said Alec, “and I don’t care what you did before we met. I love you now… I don’t expect you to feel the same for me. I didn’t kill in self-defence like you did. Not always. Your people were innocent and I…”

He trailed and Magnus gave him a soft look. “Don’t linger on the past, my love… If I let my past affect me now, I would never rest until every shadowhunter in this world was dead.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Alec said, careful with his words, handling them like blades. “I mean, shadowhunters, they— _we_ —have treated downworlders terribly. My ancestors hunted downworlders like animals and really, nothing has changed… I wouldn’t blame you if… if you wanted us all dead.”

Magnus gave him a look so balanced that Alec couldn’t read an expression from it. This man—this beautiful, tragic man—had seen such horrors, lived through them all. His eyes were weighed with all the years of his long and difficult life, and Alec couldn’t pinpoint any trace of resentment or grief or rage there.

“Tell me,” Magnus began, entirely, utterly calm, “how that would make me any different than them.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The leaders of the downworld come together for a meeting in Alec's apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big, big thank yous to my commenters on the last chapter: @dani_dabbles, @Impluvium, @master_girl, @Vallier, and @Maryliz2121!  
> Happy holidays and merry Christmas for those of you who celebrate it if I don't post again beforehand (sorry to leave you with this chapter in the holiday season)!

Magnus woke in Alec’s arms and he wished desperately that it could be like this every morning.

He didn’t remember the last time he had slept more than four hours at a time. Alec had broken their night in half with his nightmare, with his dreams of blood and death, but they had talked through it and curled up together, letting the sounds of the fading storm lull them back to sleep.

There was another noise now, however, one that made Magnus frown and lift his head from Alec’s chest solely because it was so far away. The sound itself was recognisable, but it was muffled and quiet enough that it wasn’t even the cause of him waking. It was in the pocket of his jeans, but his jeans were sprawled at the foot of Alec’s bed.

Magnus threw the duvet aside, easing himself from Alec’s arms and scrambling out of bed, searching hurriedly through his discarded clothes.

Alec shifted and stirred on the bed, clearly disturbed from his sleep by Magnus’s movements. “Magnus…?”

Magnus held a hand up to him to signal he needed quiet, retrieving his phone and accepting the call as he brings it to his ear. “Raphael?”

“ _I’ve been trying to call you for hours. Where have you been?_ ”

Magnus closed his eyes, turned his head from Raphael’s criticism and sitting heavily on the end of Alec’s bed. “I’m sorry. After last night… I just needed to stop for a minute.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s happened? Is everyone okay?”

“ _We’re fine_ ,” said Raphael, and he sounded a little guilty now. “ _I should’ve realised you were resting. I’m sorry—_ ”

“Raphael,” Magnus said, terse enough to have the vampire falter and fall silent. “If you need me, I will be there.”

There was a moment of quiet. “ _Luke thinks we should try for another escape_ ,” he said, the words weighing on Magnus’s heart. “ _He’s calling for whatever semblance of leadership remains. He wants to discuss plans for fleeing to wild areas, places that mundanes don’t venture. People are listening to him. I thought you should know._ ”

A familiar, awful feeling rushed through Magnus’s blood, turning his entire body to ice, and he fought to quash the tremor in his voice as he replied. “Lucian was not here for the last attempt,” he muttered. “You remind him of that. Tell them to do nothing without my presence, to discuss nothing. I will not have him inciting false hope among my people.”

“ _I… Yes,_ ” Raphael said, too obedient and Magnus realised that his voice had come to harshly, too commanding. “ _I understand._ ”

Magnus swallowed hard, allowing his grip to loosen on the phone; he had been holding it in a death grip. “Tell me where. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“ _There hasn’t been any decision on a meeting place yet as far as I can tell_.”

The mattress shifted beneath him and Magnus glanced back to see Alec sat practically at his side, an anxious frown furrowing his brow. “Let me call you back.”

He ended the call with a tap of his thumb, certain that the trepidation showed on his face when he turned back to Alec because the young man moved to clasp his shoulder, the furrow to his brow deepening. Magnus couldn’t help it. He reached back over his shoulder to hold Alec’s hand.

“What was that about?” Alec asked, concern seeping through in his voice. “Are you okay?”

Magnus ducked his head, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I… I have to get to a meeting… and I think I also need to figure out a place to have that meeting.”

Alec frowned, blinked hard. “Meeting?”

“The other downworld leaders are talking about fleeing the city,” Magnus muttered, raking a hand through his hair and dropping it to the nape of his neck. “I can’t let them lead our people into another slaughter. I have to… I have to convince them otherwise. It’s not safe for us.”

“Where’s the meeting?”

Magnus shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s yet another thing I’ll have to figure out.”

“Have them come here.”

Magnus blinked, taken aback. “What…?” he asked dumbly, shaking his head as he saw the shadowhunter’s face was completely serious. “Alec, these are the leaders of the downworld. If we get caught even _near_ your apartment… Do you understand how dangerous that would be?”

Alec nodded. “I understand,” he said and he sounded almost confident. His hand lifted to the warlock’s cheek. “Let me do this for you, okay? It’s safe here and you can talk without risk of your people overhearing… And if you feel the need to have a fight, I have separate rooms where you can cool off.”

Magnus chuckled softly despite everything, shook his head. “We’re not children, Alec. I’m sure we can get through this without someone throwing a punch.”

Alec tilted his head, stroking his thumb over Magnus’s cheekbone. “It’s good to see you laughing,” he murmured, his eyes distant somehow, lost in thought.

Magnus forced a smile, turned his head to kiss the palm of Alec’s hand. “I…” he began and couldn’t find the words. _I’m grateful for you. I treasure you. I need you_. It was all so vulnerable. “I need to call Raphael back,” he finished lamely.

He received a look for it, a look that he knew all too well. Alec knew that he had planned on saying something else and changed his mind last minute. The shadowhunter was good enough not to comment. It was overwhelming just how much understanding he could fit into that beautiful, tousled head of his.

“It’s going to be alright,” was all Alec said, leaning in to kiss Magnus’s temple. “You call him back, okay? Let me get you a coffee. I love you.”

In complete, soul-bearing honesty, Magnus just froze up. It was the domesticity of it. The simple sweetness of Alec Lightwood reassuring him, getting him coffee, kissing him, telling him he loved him; it was almost enough to send Magnus over the edge. He didn’t know what the abyss held, but he would likely just start to cry if he thought about it too long, so he elected not to.

Life could have been so easy. If he were born a shadowhunter or a mundane even. As a mundane, people—shadowhunters—would have talked, of course, but they would never have wanted Magnus dead. It would have been frowned upon for Alec to find himself infatuated with a human, but it would be better than this.

He was walking away now, heading for the door and Magnus lifted his head, watching his hand fall to the handle.

“Alec,” he said and managed to keep his voice from faltering.

Hazel eyes gazed back at him and Magnus swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat. He couldn’t spill his impossible dreams of normal life, so, instead, he said the only thing that made sense to him in that moment; the only thing that had _ever_ made sense.

“I love you too.”

* * *

When the door sounded at the coming of dusk, Alec went to answer it.

It was something he had done many times before, yet never for such an important reason, never for such high-profile downworlders. He recognised every one of them. The institute kept numerous electronic records of all known downworlders in the city, and these people were constantly up on the wanted screen.

These were the leaders of the downworld. Lucian Graymark, head of the New York pack; the largest and only surviving wolf pack in the city, comprising of every living wolf on the run. He took half a step back when he saw Alec, frowning his confusion a moment before giving him a short nod and entering the apartment. Alec elected not to think too much about it, turning instead to the others filing in behind him.

Lucian was accompanied by Maia, his second. She reached up to touch Alec’s shoulder in greeting. Alec wasn’t sure what to make of that; they had only met that one time after all, and he hadn’t taken her to be overly affectionate.

Raphael Santiago, the vampire leader, looked at least somewhat happy to see him as he followed the wolves inside. Simon was with him. He cast Alec a faint smile, yet his eyes were haunted. The gas chamber still troubled him and Alec couldn’t blame him one bit.

Catarina Loss brought up the rear. She placed a hand to Alec’s arm just so briefly, almost as if they were friends. She was important to Magnus, so Alec automatically placed her in very high value. He longed to ask after Madzie, that poor, frightened little girl, but he restrained himself, knowing that he may not like the answer.

Meliorn, the seelie knight, was already inside, having stayed the night after the chamber ordeal to recover from his injuries. He was the only seelie attending the meeting. They were the fewest of the downworlders; most having followed their queen back to their own realm when the uprising hit it’s peak and hope for downworlders was all but lost.

Alec closed the door after them, turned to see the leaders greeting Magnus, who regarded them all stonily. It was a strange look to see on the warlock, that calm irritation. Alec’s plan was to make a hasty exit into another room, allowing the downworlders their privacy with no suspicion about present shadowhunters.

“You’re one of the Lightwood children.”

It wasn’t a question. Alec looked to the one who had spoken, Lucian Graymark, and nodded his confirmation. “Magnus told you?”

“No,” Lucian said, surveying him with dark eyes. “You look like your mother.”

Alec blinked hard, looked to Magnus for answers, but the warlock didn’t meet his gaze. “You… You know my mother?”

“I knew her,” Lucian said, came forward to stand before Alec. He was taller than the shadowhunter, but not by much. Still, it was strange to see for Alec, who was so used to being the tallest one in the room. “We were good friends before the uprising… back when I was a shadowhunter.”

Alec stared at him. It was probably quite rude, but he couldn’t help it. “You… You were a shadowhunter?”

“I saw you once when you were a baby,” said Lucian, apparently not wishing to go into details of his shadowhunter past. He was looking at Alec strangely, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “Your mother left you in your crib while she attended the accords hall. The things she did there—”

“I know what she did,” Alec interrupted as politely as he could manage, “and I know what she is. Let me assure you, I’m not like her. I am very firmly the disappointment child of the Lightwood family.”

“A disappointment by shadowhunter standards, maybe,” Lucian said in unapologetic agreement, “but I hear good things. I know that you gave shelter to one of my own recently. Bartholomew spoke highly of you. He’s anxious to know how you are. I said I’d ask.”

“Bat shouldn’t be talking about him,” Magnus said with a cross of his arms and a huff of annoyance. “Neither should you. It’s not safe.”

Alec shook his head. “It’s—It’s fine, Magnus. I’m pretty sure everyone here knows me at this point.” He was touched by Magnus’s protectiveness, but honestly found it unnecessary in this case. He switched his attention back to Lucian. “Please tell him that I’m okay. It was just a scratch and I haven’t turned. Magnus healed me.”

All eyes turned to the warlock and Magnus squinted at them. “I didn’t use magic, don’t panic yourselves.” He tilted his head. “Alec was smart enough to ward the room that Bat turned in as well. Shadowhunter runes, but they serve for lower strength downworlders.” He glanced to the kitchen island. “Now, can we begin?”

Lucian nodded stiffly, glancing back to Alec, pausing long enough to clutch his upper arm in a show of gratitude. Alec ducked his head in turn, turning to leave. As familiar as he was with Magnus, he suspected the others wouldn’t want him eavesdropping on their downworlder politics.

“Alec.”

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the leaders were gathered around the island counter, some standing, others sitting on the few stools that Alec possessed. It was Magnus who had called for him this time.

“Stay,” he said, beckoning him forward. “You should be here for this.”

Alec hesitated. The others were exchanging looks between them, each seeming reluctant to challenge the warlock. All eyes eventually landed on Raphael and the vampire turned to Magnus, leaning one arm on the table. Clearly, he was the only one brave enough to voice his concerns. That, or they knew that Magnus had a soft spot for the vampire leader and would be unlikely to turn his wrath on him.

“Magnus,” he began, soft-spoken. “He’s a shadowhunter.”

“Anyone who is responsible for downworlders should be here,” Magnus replied, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Over half of you would likely be dead without him. _I_ would be dead without him a dozen times over.”

Raphael glanced to Alec, looked him up and down, considering him almost. “Who is he responsible for exactly?” he asked Magnus.

The warlock narrowed his eyes. “Me,” he stated plainly, and Alec shifted under the inquiring eyes of the downworld leaders. “Alec and I—”

“Magnus,” Alec interrupted hastily, not wishing for Magnus to do this under duress. They had never actually discussed the nature of their relationship. Alec loved him, of course he did—he loved the warlock more than life itself—, but they had never talked about what they actually were. “You don’t have to.”

Magnus looked to him, unreadable. “I won’t, if you are so against it.”

“What? No, it’s not that,” Alec protested. “I just… You shouldn’t say anything unless you want to.”

Gold eyes surveyed him a long moment, turning back on Raphael with determination. “I need him,” he said firmly and the vampire is staring at him with wide eyes, realisation settling it. “He stays.”

Simon looked like he was trying not to smile and was failing badly. Catarina’s eyes were kind and warm and entirely on Magnus. Meliorn appeared unmoved, but seemed to know exactly what was happening. Lucian simply stared, as if struggling to comprehend what was happening, until Maia muttered something to him in a low voice and he raised his brows in a soft kind of surprise, but said nothing in return.

“May we start?” asked Meliorn with a sigh. “I’m comfortable with Magnus’s paramour sitting in as long as no one objects.”

No one did.

Alec wasn’t sure how he felt about the seelie describing him as a ‘paramour’, but he didn’t complain. Downworlders spoke strangely sometimes—particularly the immortals among them.

So, he stood by Magnus’s side as the warlock sat himself on a stool at the kitchen island. Lucian began with his proposition. He talked about how dangerous the city was, spoke as if they didn’t all know the risks they faced every day by just _being_. Alec could see Magnus becoming more and more tense with every word.

Lucian was talking about Canada when Alec lifted his hand to rest upon Magnus’s shoulder and felt the warlock trembling under his touch. Although there were barely any physical signs, Magnus appeared to deflate under Alec’s hand. He reached back for the shadowhunter, placing his hand atop Alec’s own.

The ring’s around his fingers were cool against Alec’s skin.

“The situation has never been so dire,” Lucian said in finality. “Downworlders are a dying breed. We must act… We can’t fight, so our only option is to run.”

A beat of silence met his words. Although none of them looked at him, Alec could sense that they were waiting for Magnus to respond. It took a moment, but he did just that.

“Lucian, we can’t leave,” Magnus said and his voice sounded so defeated; it broke Alec’s heart. As quiet as he was, the others all gave their full attention to hear him speak. It was his right, after so many years of leading these people. “What happened last time cannot ever happen again. There’s too few of us left.”

“We can’t keep living like this, Magnus,” Raphael said after a moment’s pause, his voice gentle enough, _understanding_.

Magnus glanced away from him, closing his eyes. Alec tightened his grasp on the warlock’s shoulder, though he wasn’t sure it did much good. Raphael wasn’t young by regular standards, but the shadowhunter knew that, to Magnus, he would always be a child. It must pain him to see those that he viewed as young caught up in something so horrible, stuck in this life of fear and pain and unable to escape.

“Magnus,” Catarina murmured, reaching for his hand and Magnus let her take it. “We can all get out of this. We just need to come up with a plan.”

A slow exhale left Magnus’s lips. “You’re all supportive of this?”

“Yes,” said Meliorn, “but we have not yet informed our people.”

“And we won’t go without your blessing,” Raphael uttered, addressing Magnus still.

The warlock scoffed softly, angled his head away a little. “’My blessing’,” he echoed without a trace of mirth. “This isn’t a marriage, Raphael… Regardless, you don’t need my permission. You are a leader in your own right. Don’t wait for me to recover from past failures.”

“Magnus,” Lucian said, almost as though he was afraid he might break the warlock with nothing but his words. “Every downworlder alive knows your name. Every one of them trusts you with their lives… We need you on board in order to go ahead with this. If you don’t think we should risk it, then we won’t. It’s as simple as that.”

Magnus squinted at the island counter, deep in thought. “Are you planning on taking the docks?”

“Yes,” Lucian said. “We’d go in small groups.”

Magnus shook his head, immediately cutting Lucian off. “No,” he muttered, “it won’t work. It isn’t fast enough. If you try to leave the country borders, the warding alarms will go off.” He closed his eyes, turning his head just so briefly to Alec’s hand, still settled on his shoulder. “You need to take portals.”

It was Catarina who spoke then, immediate this time with her challenge. “Magnus, if you’re worried about setting the warding off, then why would you suggest portals?”

“The shadowhunter’s system tracks the conjurer,” Magnus reasoned, though his voice was dull. “If I can get it done fast enough, they’ll never know where you’ve gone. They will follow me and not you. If I can cause enough of a distraction, even the ley lines in Canada will ignore you in favour of me.”

“Wait,” Raphael uttered, waving a hand. “Wait, Magnus, what are you saying?”

Magnus scanned their faces and Alec’s heart sunk right down into his stomach because he knew that look, that resigned, yet steadfast stare that Magnus got when he knew he must do something in favour of his people yet detrimental to himself. The golden gaze swept across the steadily despairing expressions of the downworld leaders, all of whom were slowly realising what the warlock was suggesting.

“We can’t all come away from this alive,” said Magnus.

There was no fear in his voice, only certainty, and that scared Alec more than anything. The warlock lifted his chin high, _proud_ and, by the angel, Alec would give anything not to have him as such, to erase those next words from his mind. There was no coming back from it, however, when Magnus spoke them.

“I have to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like I've completely changed the tone of the story this chapter? I don't know. For better or worse, it just feels different somehow.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus explains his plan to the stunned members of the meeting and, understandably, Alec makes his protests. Another explanation is required, one now ruling Magnus's heart rather than his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to @Maryliz2121, @dani_dabbles, @PhoenixStar73, @mimi39, @Nanuko8, @Magy97, and @master_girl for your comments on the last chapter! Sorry for leaving you with the sad last time; hopefully you'll find a little more of hope in this one (though short it may be)!

The apartment was thrust into a stunned silence.

It seemed, for a moment, that no one even breathed. Alec certainly found himself unable to take a proper gulp of air, shallow gasps teasing his lungs in absolute silence. The faces around the table were tight with distress. Raphael looked as though he might be sick.

“Magnus,” he said, his voice choked with grief. “You… You can’t _die_.”

“I am not afraid, Raphael,” said Magnus, looking to him. “It’s quite simple. I’ll make portals for you. They will take you to the Canadian wilderness. Immediately after doing so, I will portal myself into Alicante,” Magnus declared his plan in an unreflective tone. He sounded… calm, somehow, when the situation was anything but.

“Magnus, that’s insane,” said Alec, finding his voice enough to protest.

“The shadowhunters will assume it is an attack,” Magnus continued as though Alec had never spoken. The other downworlders looked to him as if even they were stunned by Magnus’s blatant ignorance of him. “They’ll send all available forces. My magic will draw them in. They’ll never even notice you leaving the city.”

Alec’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “Will you listen to me for one second?”

The warlock barely looked to him. “This doesn’t concern you, Alec. You needn’t be involved.”

Raphael’s eyes widened. Catarina looked as though she wanted to slap Magnus right then and there. Lucian simply averted his gaze. Alec himself just stared.

“Doesn’t concern me,” he echoed, incredulity rising in his voice, a steady anger overtaking him. “What the hell does that mean? Of course it ‘concerns’ me, Magnus. If your plan is to kill yourself, then I am concerned!”

“I assume it’ll be your colleagues doing the killing.”

“Stop it,” Alec ordered, losing his patience entirely and Magnus looked to him, a stranger there behind his eyes. Alec made an effort to soften his voice. “Please, Magnus, just stop. You can’t do this by yourself. You can’t go to Alicante alone; you’ll be slaughtered. Let me help you.”

Magnus shook his head. “No, Alec. You will not be a part of this.”

Blinking hard, Alec stared down the warlock. “I’m already a part of this.”

“Alec,” he said firmly, a hint of anger there as he rose to his feet. “I wanted you to be present for this meeting, but if you care only for me then I cannot trust your judgement. My magic will draw the shadowhunters. It will take priority over my people portalling to Canada.”

“Why?” Alec demanded, grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and tugged hard, like he could physically shake some sense into the warlock. “Why do you have to sacrifice yourself? Why can’t you let me do this for you?!”

“Because I can’t allow you to get yourself killed trying to save us!” Magnus snapped, yelling at him for the first time since they had met, all those years ago.

The room was silent.

Alec gaped, but had no response, and Magnus sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I assume you want to talk about this in private.”

“By the Angel do I want to talk about this in private,” Alec whispered through his shock at the outburst, struggling to retain his anger in the face of Magnus’s own rage.

Magnus gestured a careless hand to the shadowhunter, drawing him aside and leading the way to his bedroom; the room they had shared together only last night, the room where Magnus had soothed his haunted mind, the room in which he had held the warlock in his arms as they slept.

Alec stormed into that room, whirling on Magnus as he turned to close the door behind them. “What the hell was that?” Alec hissed and, when Magnus looked back to him, his eyes were bright with apology.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about this sooner,” he said, coming to take Alec’s hands in his own. “And I’m sorry for being brash out there. Raphael is already reluctant to leave without me and if he thinks I’m afraid then there will be no stopping him from following me straight into hell.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” asked Alec.

Magnus looked up at him, his eyes huge. “Alec, I am planning to enter a city filled with people who want me dead, people who will know of my presence the second my feet touch the ground. I’m going to die. Of course I’m afraid... but that doesn’t mean I will be deterred. This is the way I save my people.”

Alec swallowed hard. “There has to be another way,” he insisted. “This can’t be it. This isn’t right.”

Gold eyes narrowed and flitted downward as Magnus exhaled a sigh. His shoulders were slumped, his posture weary. “Alec,” he murmured, closed his eyes. “I am so, so tired... I have fought for centuries and I’m not strong enough to do it anymore. My people need to feel safe, and I need to rest.”

Alec shook his head. “Death isn’t rest,” he whispered, lifting a hand to coax Magnus’s face up. “Look at me.” The warlock did so and Alec passed the pad of his thumb over his cheek. “What happens when you die in Alicante? The shadowhunters take your mark as a trophy, throw your body in a mass grave, and go straight out after your people again.”

“They can hide better out of the city,” Magnus said. “The wilderness will protect them. They will survive there... Lucian is right. If we stay, we all die eventually.”

Alec took a shuddering breath. “Some of that was real out there, wasn’t it? You weren’t just putting on an act for Raphael and the others. You’re really doing this and you won’t let me help you.” Magnus closed his eyes, angled his head away slightly, and Alec narrowed his eyes. “I can’t change your mind, can I?”

“Not when it concerns the survival of my people, no.” Magnus clutched his cheeks lightly. “I am so sorry, Alec… I never wanted to do this to you, but I have no other choice. I must be a leader… I must be soldier.”

Hands reaching up, Alec clasped the warlock’s wrists, held him in place. “Please, Magnus, let me come with you,” he whispered. “I’ll come to Alicante. I’ll fight and die at your side. At least we’ll be together then.”

Magnus shook his head. “No, Alec,” he denied softly. “You can’t… You’re right, I meant at least some of what I said out there. I need you to live and I will _not_ watch you die. Go with Lucian and the others if you like. He will protect you. He’ll treat you like a son the way your father failed to.”

“I don’t want a father,” said Alec, heated again now. “I want—” He cut himself off, swallowed hard against the sudden lump of grief in his throat and the sting in his eyes. “You know what I want.”

Magnus clicked his tongue in soft sympathy, his thumb smoothing at the soft skin high on Alec’s cheek. “Hey,” he uttered, coaxing the hazel gaze up to meet his own. “I need you to be a soldier too... I’m sorry, but you have to be strong for me one last time, darling. One last fight.”

Alec choked back a sob, allowing Magnus to pull his head forward, kiss his brow.

“This will all be over soon, Alexander,” he vowed, his voice soft as a whisper against Alec’s forehead. “My beautiful Alexander, you’ve been so brave… It will be done soon. You won’t have to fight anymore.”

Shaking his head, Alec lifted his hands to Magnus’s shoulders, held him close. It was all he could do at this point. He could only hold Magnus and pray for him; The Angel must see how awful the world had become under the rule of His Nephilim. Alec had to believe in The Angel. He had to keep his faith, even now, even when such a thing led others of his kind to commit genocide.

His eyes snapped open in realisation, in determination. _The Angel_ , he thought, as he looked down upon Magnus’s face, at his closed eyes lined with makeup, at the tremulous press of his lips. He was the only perfection in this cruel world. The Angel must see that too. He must sense Magnus’s bravery and selflessness and know that this is not a damned creature to be slain by Nephilim hands.

“I wish I could know what you’re thinking,” Magnus uttered, his eyes opening finally and the gold caught the streetlight outside, the only illumination of the room, and made his eyes glow darkly. “What _does_ go on in that busy, beautiful head of yours, my love…?”

Alec swallowed hard. “I’ll tell you,” he said, only half a lie, because he would only speak half the truth. “I am thinking that you are the best person I know. You’re perfect. There will never be another like you, Magnus Bane. I hope you know that… I hope you considered that when you thought up this plan that will kill you.”

Magnus blinked up at him, breathed out slowly and Alec could see the glossy shine of tears there in his eyes. “I could say the same about you,” he murmured. “One of us must live at least… and I choose you.”

“Why should you get to choose?” Alec wondered aloud.

Magnus smiled sadly. “Because,” he began simply and never continued.

Alec watched him a long moment, but he didn’t speak and the shadowhunter huffed softly. “Because,” he echoed.

Leaning in, Magnus kissed him and Alec gently clutched the warlock’s waist, holding him close. Their lips fit together perfectly, as if they were made for one another. Perhaps they were. Shadowhunters loved only once, fiercely. Alec knew in his heart he would never feel a fiercer love. He would never wish for one.

“I should return to them,” Magnus uttered when their lips broke and they had a moment to breathe. “Raphael will be worrying and I must convince him to leave without me.”

Alec nodded, certain that his reluctance showed in the way he released Magnus’s waist, his fingers smoothing down and uncurling slowly from the warlock’s hips. Magnus pulled away from him with a soft sigh and low eyes. It was a sad sight to see him heading for the door, but Alec watched him go all the same.

The door closed behind Magnus as the warlock left the room and Alec finally allowed himself to palm back the moisture stinging his eyes.

Although, the warlock may have his plans, Alec was in the process of concocting his own. His mind was overcome with a single thought and, no matter how hard he tried to think of another, he couldn’t shake it. Magnus claimed that his plan to portal into Alicante was the only way. It was a suicide mission.

If Alec was mistaken about any aspect of his own plan, then he would be walking into a slaughterhouse just as much as Magnus. They would die together, yet somehow still so far apart. The thought gave him pause, but Alec had to try.

Faith was all they had now. Alec must have faith that the silent brothers were as unaligned as anyone with angelic blood could hope to be. They claimed that they did not take sides in the war between Nephilim and downworlder—a neutral party who offered their wisdom to shadowhunters, but nothing more—and, if Alec remembered his histories, their charge was the soul sword, an ancient, angelic weapon, claimed lost by the brothers decades ago.

Alec had always found that strange, how such a thing could be lost without a trace. Now—now that he had aligned himself with the downworld—he believed that he finally understood why such a claim was made. The sword was designed for demonic destruction. Alec would do everything in his power to ensure it could be salvation.

Once believing he would never enter the city of bones, either in life or death, Alec now knew that he had little other option.

“Magnus,” he whispered at the closed door. “I’m going to save you, Magnus. I swear by the Angel… I will save you.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a desperate bid to save Magnus from sacrificing himself for the downworld's survival, Alec makes his way to the Silent City, convinced that the soul sword is still in the care of the silent brothers. More importantly, he is convinced that the sword may be the key to their salvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to those who commented on the last chapter: @lawsofchaos, @PhoenixStar73, @dani_dabbles, @Nanuk08, @magique_lightbane, @nicoxglasses, @coffeeandfanfiction, @Thewitchinghourrr, @Liz_060, @Vallier, and @master_girl!
> 
> You guys are incredible and I know I don't generally reply to comments, but please don't think that doesn't mean I don't appreciate every single one of them. I need you all to know that I wouldn’t be here without you. You get me through every doubt and slump I have with this story, so thank you so much.
> 
> Got very sentimental for a moment there. Anyway, welcome back to my sporadic posting schedule! I have no plan and it shows.

The cemetery was eerie at dusk, the names of the gravestones obscured in long, darkly cast shadows.

Alec walked through them with certain strides. Any other time, he would have allowed himself to feel trepidation, concern, fear even at entering the city of bones to beseech the silent brothers for their help in saving the downworld. They had always unnerved him. He believed what they did to be mutilation, yet he must look past that now.

He needed them after all. He needed the sword.

Magnus had left his apartment with the others just last night, needing time to spread the word of his plan among the downworlders still hiding in the city. They would not leave without everyone who wished to come. Alec could not imagine anyone refusing their proposition.

Before he had left the apartment, Alec had taken Lucian aside, made him swear to call Alec when they were due to leave. He did it under the pretence that he wished to join them when they left for Canada, but it wasn’t true. Alec took it as an opportunity to follow Magnus through his portal to Alicante. He would not allow him to go to that place alone, despite everything Magnus had said to convince him.

Despite his failure to convince Alec, Magnus had managed to persuade Raphael to leave with the others. There had been a lot of angry voices behind closed doors, though the anger itself never came from Magnus’s voice, followed by something sounding suspiciously like crying—again, not Magnus’s tears—and finally they had emerged with Raphael looking as though he had been weeping for hours and Magnus with his hand braced to the vampire’s back, still muttering softly in his ear.

Ninety years old was apparently young for downworlders; Magnus saw Raphael as a child, a son almost. In the early years of their allied relationship, Alec thought parenthood an odd quality to find in downworlders, in Magnus especially. Now, he thought only of what could have been, of what they may have had if things had been different.

It came to his dreams sometimes. Being a father, having Magnus beside him, raising children together. It was nothing but a ludicrous fantasy, however. It was foolish to even dream of and Alec shook it from his head.

The gates of the silent city loomed as he approached, like the gaping maw of a huge beast threatening to swallow him down. Alec didn’t hesitate at the entrance. He stepped through, descending into the darkness. Wall-mounted, onyx torches flared to life at his presence, lighting his way down the damp, tunnelled stairs.

At the foot of them, a silent brother waited for him. His face was half-shadowed by a runed hood, but, even so, the stitches criss-crossing his mouth were dark as oil, hollowed eye appearing to follow Alec even when there was nothing there. Some of the brother's sewed their eyes closed. Others removed them completely. This one had apparently chosen the latter and Alec fought to repress a shudder.

“ _Why do you enter here, child_?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble in Alec’s mind. “ _This is no place for the living… You do not wish to join us._ ”

“I need your help,” said Alec, facing the brother, struggling to force away his fear. “Please, I need to speak in the council chamber.”

“ _You are in no position to make demands_.”

Alec swallowed hard. “The silent brothers do not engage in combat, I know, but you must know that there is to be a fight. In order to win, I request that you grant me leave of the soul sword.” The brother shifted, the craters that were once eyes seeming to widen. “Do I have your attention now?”

The silent brother said nothing, simply beckoned Alec with a skeletal-like hand. Alec followed as he led the way, his steps echoing loudly as the only sound to be heard—the silent brother made no such sound, his footsteps entirely non-existent. He led Alec down a hallway of dark stone, light that failed to reach the end, and Alec was walking blind by the time the silent brother placed a hand to his chest to hold him back.

“ _Turn to your left and descend the stairs_ ,” he said, his voice the only thing keeping Alec from floating off into the dark and the silence. “ _You will come to the Speaking Stars_. _Brother Jeremiah will hear you._ ”

Nodding, Alec turned, stepped forward gingerly, feeling his way down the uneven stairs. The Speaking Stars was a room he had only heard of, never even a picture allowed to books, only vague descriptions. The silent brothers guarded the secrets of their city with great care.

There was a soft glow below him and Alec carefully quickened his step, following the light and allowing it guide his way. The foot of the stairs opened into a squared room that Alec saw from the right side.

In each corner of the room, four spires of bone had been erected, gleaming white and with the carving marks smoothed to perfection, reflecting light from the onyx torches. There was a table there in the centre of the room, black and white veined stone, behind which silent brothers stood in a carefully constructed line.

At the other side of the table, opposite the brothers, the floor was a black marble square dotted with intricately detailed constellations of stars, a dull silver. Around the dark square, the floor was crimson and bronze tile.

Alec stepped carefully across them, halting himself in the square of black marble and turning to face the council of silent brothers.

“ _You come with demands,_ ” the brother at the very centre of the line said. Alec could only assume this was Jeremiah. “ _Speak them and be judged._ ”

“Forgive my intrusion, believe I am sorry for it, but I don’t have much time,” Alec said with no shortage of urgency. “I need the soul sword.”

A ripple went through the brothers, a shift of sorts. It would have been a collective murmur if they could speak. Hollowed eyes bored into Alec as he forced himself not to move. The air was a strange temperature in the city, cold but somehow heavy too.

“ _The sword is not here, child_ ,” Brother Jeremiah said. “ _You know this. I trust you have been taught your histories_.”

Alec breathes out sharply. “My history is a lie. Everything is a lie. Shadowhunters are not a force for good; we bring nothing but death and misery wherever we go.” He lifted his head, keeping his chin high and certain, despite the fact he could feel himself shaking. “You claimed the sword was lost when the inquisitor came to you after the uprising... I know my histories, and I know you wouldn’t make a mistake like that. You lied.”

The lead brother tilted his head just so slightly. “ _The things you speak are treason_ ,” he rumbled in Alec’s mind.

“I don’t have time to be delicate,” Alec said. “Someone I care about is going to die and I need the sword to save him.” He clenched his jaw. “I know I would usually need all three of the mortal instruments, but the cup is lost and the mirror was never found and I have to believe the sword will suffice.” He paused a moment, remembering his teachings. “The Angel is merciful… Despite everything, I have to believe that.”

“ _The Angel cannot be raised_ ,” one of the others told him, only obvious that the speaker was changed because the voice sounded so different, higher and sharper. “ _We told the inquisitor as much when he wished to do exactly this after the uprising_.”

“Because you wanted to give downworlders a fighting chance,” said Alec, and that strange wave went through them again. “Please believe that’s all I want too. I have to save them.”

There was a moment of almost perfect silence. An eery dripping echoed through the city of bone, but that was the only sound to be heard until Alec’s ears grew accustomed to his own breaths, his own heartbeat. Perhaps the brothers were speaking among themselves. Alec would wait for them. He didn’t have much time.

“ _You will kneel before the sword_ ,” Jeremiah said, “ _and we will know if you lie_.”

Alec breathed out his irritation. “Fine,” he said, just impatient to leave and knowing that it would be quicker if he complied.

The silent brothers stared at him and Alec swallowed hard, fighting down a prick of fear rising in his stomach. It became clear to him—albeit the realisation dawned on him slowly—that they were not going to lead him to the sword, that they meant for him to be trialled here. Alec knelt.

There was a rush like the air was being sucked up out of the room and the lead silent brother lifted a bony hand, pointing a slender finger to the ceiling. Alec lifted his head and his mouth fell open in a shaky gasp.

The ceiling had disappeared into a dome, collapsing upwards into a shining sphere of pure light, as if being sucked into a black hole that glowed like the sun. A sword hung in the centre, blade tip pointing down at Alec. The relic gleamed in the angelic light, bouncing rays down to scatter the floor Alec knelt on, making the silver stars printed there on the black marble glow like those in the sky.

“ _Do not fear_ ,” a voice spoke into Alec’s mind. “ _The pain will be brief_.”

Alec stared at the sword as it descended on him, knowing that this could be his end, that the silent brothers could kill him in an instant. “I am not afraid of pain,” he said, speaking only his truth. “My fears run deeper than that.”

His eyes closed a second before the blade touched his brow. The shot of agony drove so deep and so fierce that, for a fleeting moment, Alec was certain the sword had been thrust directly into his skull. He tried to scream and it came out as a clash of metal, a scream of blades crashing together.

It stopped with a crush of darkness and Alec felt himself falling back into it. He never touched the ground.

Golden eyes opened in the darkness, dark pupils slit down the centre.

“ _My guardian angel…_ ”

Alec gasped as the eyes slid shut, colour flowing from the last slight of visible irises, thrusting him forward into the light. He stared down the shaft of an arrow nocked in his bow, watching Magnus knelt at the end of the arrowhead, placing himself protectively in front of two warlock children, staring down Alec with desperate eyes.

With a crack like lightning, Magnus was lying in Alec’s bed, his face grey and pinched, dark eyes falling fitfully upon the shadowhunter.

“Alec… it hurts…” he whispered and, even now, Alec felt his heart clench in pity.

“I know it does,” Alec heard himself say. “It’s okay.”

The scene changed over and over, billowing around him like smoke from a fire. Magnus was in his kitchen, looking over his shoulder, smiling like the sun. They sat together beside the sheet-covered body of Ragnor Fell. Alec gave Magnus his jacket. Scissors snipped through Magnus’s hair, and the warlock’s hands clenched white-knuckled in his lap. The whip struck Magnus’s back, leaving bloody gashes in its wake.

Their words floated around him, meeting his ears as a whisper. “Kiss me,” Magnus gasped beneath him and Alec did. “I love you too,” said softly from across the room. “I’m here, sayang,” whispered to soothe a feverish mind. “My beautiful Alexander,” breathed against his forehead, an attempt at soft comfort.

It all fell to darkness, Magnus’s voice fading into the distance, the images dissipating into black. It was so silent and so dark. It seemed to last forever.

A shot of crimson lightning was flung at him through the darkness and Alec ducked on instinct, standing again to find himself at the shore of a lake. Lake Lyn, Alec thought in mild confusion. He was just outside of Alicante. The stars gleamed above him, too big, too exaggerated, and, all around him, shadowhunters drew their blades.

Alec gaped in panic, twisting around to follow their fixed eyes, and cried out in desperation. Magnus stood there, dressed darkly in black jeans and a long, crimson jacket that flowed almost to his knees, buckled in buttons of burning bronze, reflecting the light of his magic. His face was twisted in a ferocious snarl, cat eyes gleaming.

Something rushed past Alec, half a blur, and he just managed to recognise Jace as his brother flung himself at the warlock with a feral battle cry. Alec tried to move but his feet were trapped, tried to scream, but nothing came out but a gasp that clouded his breath in the air.

Jace slashed at Magnus ruthlessly, blocked at every swing of his blade by a shot of magic, screaming his rage and irritation when he couldn’t land a hit. His blade was wrenched aside by a spark of crimson and a magic engulfed hand raised to Jace’s throat. His fingers trembled in hesitation, his hand stilling in reluctance and Alec knew, in his heart, why he had stopped.

If it were anyone else, Magnus would have killed them without pause. He was hesitating because this was Jace. This was Alec’s brother.

In his hesitation, Jace slammed a fist to the side of his head, knocking him down to his knees. A pale hand fisted into Magnus’s hair and yanked it back, bringing the seraph blade around to his throat and slashing it open with one fluid movement. The blade gleamed, dripping with blood, and Magnus fell lifelessly to the ground. One hand fell to the lake, splashing limply in the shallows.

Alec fell to his knees, unable to scream, unable to go to him.

Lyn’s water ran dark with blood, crimson spreading all across the glassy surface, blotting out the stars reflected there, crowding them with darkness.

Alec woke with a gasp on the floor in the pavilion of the Speaking Stars. The black marble he lay upon was covered in blood, the stars obscured by crimson. A silent brother knelt beside him. Alec lifted his head with a groan, a hand coming to wipe at his nose, his knuckles coming back stained in blood.

“What happened?” he asked, the heel of his palm pressing to his temple. “What was that…? I—I saw—”

“ _One of many possible futures,_ ” the silent brother said. “ _You succumbed to the sword. It took you deeper than I have yet to see and it has taken its toll on your body and your mind. It was rumoured the sword will give warnings to those it deems worthy. Now, we have confirmation of that… The probability of the future changes every second, but, as of this moment, that which you saw seems most likely_.”

Alec swallowed hard. “Magnus,” he said, not quite a question.

The silent brother gave him a solemn nod. “ _If the sword is correct, it seems that your warlock will perish at the hands of your brother… It is unusual for the gift of angelic sight to be so literal, but this is clear. The lake will run red with blood_.”

Alec shook his head. “No, he can’t… I came here to save him. He can’t die!”

“ _If you wish to change this future, then you must hurry_ ,” said the brother, rising to his feet with one, eerily fluid movement and watching Alec stand, his way of doing so as shaky as the brother’s had been perfect. “ _Time is altered here in the Speaking Stars. To your friends, you have been gone for many hours_.”

“No,” Alec whispered, shook his head as he scrambled for his phone, tapping the screen to let his notifications show.

Four missed calls. One voicemail.

Alec taps on the voicemail. It was sent mere minutes ago, but it sends panic to his heart. It was from Luke.

“ _Hi, Alec. Sorry I couldn’t get a hold of you. I hope you’re safe. We can’t wait for you, but you don’t need to take a portal. You can cross the borders without alerting shadowhunters. Call me back and I’ll give you our location. Hopefully we’ll see you soon._ ”

“I need to get to Alicante,” Alec said once the message was over, pocketing his mobile and looking to the silent brothers. “I read that you have a portal here. Will you let me use it?”

“ _Brother Enoch will show you the way._ ” Alec nodded, walked briskly to a silent brother who turned to the door. “ _Mr Lightwood,_ ” Jeremiah called for him, causing him to halt in his tracks, unaccustomed to hearing a title generally reserved for his father. “ _What wish do you plan to compel from the angel if he should appear to you?_ ”

Alec swallowed hard, looked back to him. There was not a trace of doubt in his voice; he saw no emotion pass the silent brother’s faces when he spoke, as if they had expected this all along.

“I’m going to wish shadowhunters away,” Alec said, very calmly. “I’m going to destroy us all.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After helping his people to flee the city, Magnus sends himself to Alicante, hoping that his presence there will distract from the downworlder's escape. In the heart of Idris, at the shores of Lake Lyn, a sacrifice is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to those who commented on the last chapter: @dani_dabbles, @Adaline_Blooms, @MissDawnn, @Nanuk08, @PhoenixStar73, @RB (BlueflowersandWings)—a LONG comment that must have taken you ages and I am so grateful for it—, @gunpowder_and_pearls, @master_girl, @youmeatsix, and @Maryliz2121.
> 
> I'm sorry about all these cliffhangers. This is... probably not the last one, but it's the worst one and I am so sorry for what's about to come. Please trust me.

The moon was a silver claw in an endless sky. Barely half a dozen stars peaked through the light pollution, only the very brightest of them managing to seep into view. The river sloshed irregularly against the concrete edge of the dock. A cold wind blew across dark waves.

Magnus Bane stared out across the water, knowing that tonight would be the last time he set eyes on this world.

It was a strange feeling, to know that he would die at the hands of shadowhunters after all, after everything he had done to survive them. There would be a moment, however, a fleeting minute before his death, when his magic would be free. It had been decades now since the repressing cuff had been truly unlocked from his wrists and, though it would lead to his demise, he was aching to feel that power course through him again.

“Magnus,” a voice murmured and he blinked hard, pulling himself from the constant pull of his magic to heed the voice and turn to see Maia at his back, “all the wolves are present.”

Magnus nodded. “Thank you, my dear,” he replied, doing the math in his head. “We’re just waiting on the last of the night children now… They shouldn’t be long.”

Maia ducked her head and left him to his thoughts.

In all honesty, it was Raphael and Simon they were lingering for. It was the former who had insisted he required time to collect something of great importance to him, and Magnus loved him enough that he could not refuse. If it was of importance to Raphael, a boy of very few belongings and attachments, then it must be worth a great deal.

A faint voice seeped through Magnus’s thoughts and he frowned, turned his head to the sound. Lucian had peeled off from the groups of downworlders gathering between the shipping containers. He was speaking urgently into his mobile phone, his voice hushed so that Magnus couldn’t make out the words.

Their presence at the docks was not an idle decision on Magnus’s part, nor was it intended to be a call-back to the failures of the past. The ley lines were weakest before they were at their strongest and the water was confusing for even the angelic tracking of the Nephilim.

The downworlders shivered, shadowed between the shipping containers. Lucian faced the winds boldly. It must be important. Magnus was wary, however, anxious of Lucian’s call and to whom he may be speaking. All the wolves were here after all.

“Lucian,” Magnus called to him, impatient to get this over with. The alpha wolf pocketed his phone and Magnus narrowed his eyes in curiosity as he came to stand at the warlock’s side, his eyes dark and anxious as they stared out across the open water. “Who were you calling?”

“Alec,” Lucian replied and Magnus’s heart clenched in his chest. “He wanted me to call when we were due to leave, so he could accompany us. At least,” he continued when Magnus opened his mouth to chastise him, “that’s his story.”

Magnus recognised that light in his eyes, that knowing look. He had so often seen it in Ragnor. “I said my goodbyes to Alec,” he muttered, though it wasn’t entirely true.

That conversation in Alec’s bedroom had been their last talk where it was just the two of them. When Magnus had departed with the rest of the group, Alec had kissed him softly, chastely almost, and told Magnus he loved him and to be careful. It was an odd sentiment, when he knew as well as the rest of them what Magnus’s plan entailed. He could only hope that the shadowhunter wasn’t planning some suicidal rescue mission of his own.

 _It would be just like Alec_ , Magnus couldn’t help but reflect, his thoughts fond, _to conjure up some daring escape_. Magnus hoped he wouldn’t, however, wished in vain that Alec wouldn’t be so foolish. Just this once, Alec should put his own needs before anyone else’s; before Magnus’s in particular.

“What did he say?” Magnus couldn’t help but ask.

Lucian shook his head. “Nothing. I couldn’t get a hold of him. I left a voicemail.”

A cold weight dropped in Magnus’s stomach at that. Not at the fact that Lucian still used voicemail, though outdated as it was. No, his concern was Alec, because Alec always answered his phone. Day or night, he always answered. The reasons that he would fail to answer were few and frightening.

“He’s probably asleep,” Lucian said, clearly sensing Magnus’s moment of concealed panic. “I don’t expect he was prepared for us to leave so soon.” His dark eyes swept back across the gathered downworlders. “Maybe he doesn’t realise how few of us there are left to inform of the plan.”

“Maybe,” Magnus said, unconvinced, eyeing the ragged group.

There were only around three dozen of them and yet Magnus knew that this was it. These were the only surviving downworlders left in New York City.

“Magnus,” a voice murmured and Magnus turned to see Raphael approaching with Simon at his back.

Wordlessly, Magnus moved to embrace him, his face pressed against the side of Raphael’s neck, his arms tight around the boy’s shoulders. Raphael exhaled shakily, held him in turn. This moment, Magnus could allow himself at least. This boy, this foolish, brave child whom he had practically raised, would be his inspiration, his motivation once he reached Alicante.

Raphael extracted himself from the hug, closing his eyes when Magnus placed a hand to the back of his head. “I want to give you something,” he murmured and Magnus frowned softly, pulling back to tilt his head at the vampire.

Reaching a hand into the inside of his jacket, Raphael pulled out a small wrapping of cloth, pressed it into Magnus’s hand. The warlock peeled back the cloth, brows knitted in confusion. It eased from his expression as he saw what laid in his hand and he looked to Raphael with narrowed eyes.

It was a crucifix pendant, small and silver, suspended on an equally delicate chain.

Magnus instantly grabbed Raphael’s hands, inspecting them for burns. He found none. “You can’t touch holy things anymore, Raphael, you know that.”

“I was careful,” said Raphael and there was a wistful kind of look in his eyes as he looked at the necklace in Magnus’s hand. “I know you’re not religious, but I’ve had this since I was a child. You practically raised me and I just… I wanted you to have something, some protection maybe. I… I don’t really know. It just felt important somehow.”

“Raphael,” said Magnus, regarding him carefully. “Are you sure…? You will never see this again if you give it to me.”

Raphael swallowed so hard that Magnus could see his pale throat convulse from the force of it. “I have my faith,” he said.

Part of Magnus wanted to chide him for that, but he couldn’t find the heart. Raphael keeping his faith, his religion—with everything they had been through—was an admirable feat. Magnus wasn’t about to discourage that, even though he knew Raphael’s God couldn’t save him.

No one could save him now.

“Thank you,” was all he said, however, fastening the chain around his throat, tucking the crucifix under his shirt so it laid over his heart. He took Raphael’s hand, not in anxiety this time, and squeezed as tight as he dared. “I need to get you and the others to safety now, okay?”

Raphael nodded, though his eyes were downcast.

Magnus considered saying his goodbyes, but there was nothing that he hadn’t already expressed a dozen times before.

Instead, he let Catarina embrace him, her hand cradling the back of his head, like she could protect him from what was to come. He kissed Madzie’s forehead and wiped the tears from her cheeks and uttered whatever reassurance he could. She at least partly understood what was happening. He approached Lorenzo, made him swear to protect their people. The younger warlock agreed solemnly and Magnus was somewhat satisfied.

Simon was unusually quiet when Magnus grasped his shoulder in farewell. Silent tears streaked Maia’s cheeks when she hugged the warlock goodbye.

Goodbyes were not Magnus’s strong suit, but he was not losing them. They were losing him. For Magnus, the memories of them would be etched into his mind for the rest of his life—however quickly that would come to an end. He counted himself lucky for that. There was nothing he feared more than losing his loved ones.

There were others who wished to bid him farewell. Many downworlders gathered were crying. Magnus knew each one by name as they knew him. There was no time for them all, however. Magnus couldn’t bear it.

Instead, he did what he had longed to do for decades, what he could never do. He grabbed the clasp of the repressing cuff on his wrist, snapping it open. It fell to the floor with a satisfying _clunk_ and Magnus took a second to breathe as the euphoria of his magic swept through his body.

After so long being trapped, the power of it felt like fireworks erupting beneath his skin.

He snapped his fingers and twisted a hand and a portal rushed into being, whirling gold and gorgeous and, if Magnus looked hard, he could see the rippling outline of a forest edge, mountains hemming the sky.

“Go now,” he commanded his people and they obeyed on instinct.

It took longer than Magnus would have liked, but shadowhunters did not have portals except to travel to and from Idris. Their sirens must be alerting them to downworlder activity by now, but they would have to come on foot and, as quick as the Nephilim may be, Magnus would be quicker.

The last of his people vanished through the portal and Magnus closed it with a snap, immediately conjuring another and, without even stopping to bask in the glow of his magic, he leapt through.

In less than a second, Magnus was standing in the place he had ended up when he last visited Idris and, coincidentally, it was the place he was likely to alert the most attention. The accords hall stood righteous and glowering before him and shadowhunters froze in place where they scattered the courtyard, staring at Magnus as the sirens of their towers blared.

He had been here two decades ago. He had been here on the day of the uprising.

In his mind, this courtyard and the hall it housed would forever be the abattoir that stole the downworld leaders from them. Fire and blood and death all around him, Magnus had heeded the dying words of his kin and fled. He had been one of the few who survived. The others, all gone now. Shadowhunters had taken them in the end too.

Shadowhunters sprang into action all around him and Magnus cast a spell to protect himself from their arrows and their flying blades, another shooting, crimson from his hands and blasting a gaping crater in one balcony of the accords hall. It was anger that fuelled the blast, and he allowed it to free two more shots before he knew he must make haste.

The accords hall smoked and flamed behind him as he fled from the city, his magic propelling him up over the outskirt buildings and landing him in the forest beyond. There, he ran.

It was enough of a scene to destroy the place where this horror had began. Institutes all across the world would respond to the call. By the time they had slain him and sent a patrol to investigate the rouge portal in the Canadian wilderness, his people would be long gone.

Shadowhunters yelled behind him, battle commands and insults and threats, and Magnus kept running. He knew where he had to lead them. He knew where this story must end.

A blinding pain struck his shoulder and he staggered with a startled yell, stumbling almost to a halt and reaching behind him to remove the offending object. It came free with a fresh shot of pain and a gritted gasp. An arrow, like the ones Alec kept in his quiver.

Magnus clenched his jaw and cast it aside, clutched a hand back over his shoulder and forced himself onwards. A lucky shot. They were still a ways behind him as he burst out of the tree line.

Lake Lyn sat before him, waters calm and unassuming—a perfect mirror of the star-ridden sky—and Magnus stumbled down to its shore, closing his eyes tight as he felt the hot sting of blood seep out over his fingers. There was a shout behind him, a singular voice rising above the rabble of noise and the lakeside was silent.

Magnus breathed out hard and turned to meet his fate.

His fate, as it appeared, was Jace Herondale. _Alec’s brother_ , Magnus reflected sickly as the blond boy strode towards him, halting a speaking distance away. His seraph blade glowed cruelly, drawn at his side. The rest of the shadowhunters in pursuit of Magnus remained at the tree line. Magnus recognised Isabelle among them, silver whip in hand. Neither gave anything away. He could only hope that she was not foolish enough to try and save him.

“Finally,” Jace growled, a malicious smile spreading across his face. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” He looked back to those gathered behind him. “No one interfere! He’s mine.”

A mirthless grin took Magnus’s expression. Magic flared his hands and, despite everything, for the first time in decades—centuries, even—Magnus felt free. Power coursed through his veins, magic that had been trapped under repressing cuffs since the start of the millennia finally permitted freedom. Magnus could _breathe_.

“You’ve taken your time, Nephilim,” he replied, relishing the crack of magic between his fingers. “Are you sure you can take me by yourself? Last time you caught me, it didn’t end so well as I recall.”

“You ran like a coward!” snarled Jace and launched himself into the fight.

Magnus took the defensive, parrying the thrust of the seraph blade with a shot of magic and sidestepping to avoid the shadowhunters next, frenzied attack. Agony racked his shoulder, but it was a surprising amount of grace that he had maintained. Magnus shocked even himself by it, considering how long he had gone without dancing.

“’A coward’?” he echoed in a humourless chuckle as Jace regained his balance. They stalked a wide circle, keeping one another in sight. “A coward to value my life? A coward to flee from my execution? What could be more cowardly than your people? Slaughtering anything you don’t understand. Killing _children_ for terror of what they will grow into. Fear brought you to where you are now… and fear will destroy you.”

Jace yelled a wordless rage and Magnus prepared for another onslaught, knowing that he could take this boy apart with a snap of his fingers, but reluctant somehow. Jace was a monster, but he was _Alec’s_ brother. Though Alec had made it clear he did not support Jace’s views in the slightest, the were still kin, they had grown up together.

Magnus was destined for death regardless. It may as well be the Herondale boy who took his life. No one could blame him for giving in then.

A crack of blue rushed between them and Magnus took a hasty step in retreat, watching Jace do the same at the other end of the portal, stretched lengthways between them. For a moment, Magnus felt the overwhelming urge to sink to his knees, despairing that it may be one of his people come to die alongside him.

The figure who emerged from the portal was so familiar and Magnus was torn between desperate grief and intense panic. Hazel eyes surveyed him, glowing in the portal light. There was a smudge of blood under his nose, but he didn’t stop long enough for Magnus to question him.

Instead, he turned to the gathering of shadowhunters, who stared back at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Even Isabelle looked shocked and Magnus understood in that moment that she knew nothing of her brother’s plan. A tight hand gripped the hilt of the brightest, yet somehow least ornate blade Magnus had ever encountered. On something akin to instinct, he knew what it was.

 _This is his plan_ , Magnus thought with a shot of terror. If he was set on what Magnus believed, it would achieve nothing but ensure both of their deaths.

“Enough!” Alec yelled, wielding the blade like a beacon and even Jace paused at its sight, staring at him with wide eyes. “That’s enough!”

“Alec,” Jace gasped like his brother had lost his mind. “What are you _doing_? Is that—?”

“The soul sword,” said Alec. “The cup is destroyed. The mirror has never been found. If the angel will listen to anything, he will listen to this.” He glanced to Magnus, to the lake. “The only thing that will stop this mindless slaughter of downworlders is the word of the angel.”

One of the shadowhunters snarled in rage and Magnus’s eyes widened as he ran at Alec with a scream. “Traitor!”

Alec met his blade with the soul sword, thrust him back with the force of his parry. Magic flared to Magnus’s hands on pure instinct, wishing only to protect Alec and save him from his own foolishness because this was _not_ a plan. This was a suicide mission.

“Stop,” Jace ordered, his voice low with command and the shadowhunter took an obedient, albeit reluctant step back. “He’s clearly enchanted. The warlock’s using him.”

Alec’s grip on the sword trembled softly and he thrust it, enraged, into the soft mud bank of the lake. “Of course you’d assume that,” he growled and Magnus shook his head, grabbing Alec’s shoulder and forcing him back, pushing him in the direction of the lake, just hoping to get him away from the shadowhunters before Jace lost control of them.

“Alec, stop this! Let them believe it and you’re safe.” Magnus shook his head, allowing, for a moment, anger to take hold. “What are you even doing here? I told you not to come!”

“I couldn’t leave you to do this on your own!” Alec insisted and he was _so_ determined and Magnus couldn’t stand it. “I couldn’t let you—” He broke off. His eyes widened at a spot over Magnus’s shoulder. “Jace, no!”

Magnus was shoved aside so hard that his feet got caught under him, sending him slamming to the ground, gasping at the pain of his shoulder, but he couldn’t dwell for long. His head lifted in a panic, his eyes blowing wide with shock. Alec was stood before his brother. Jace looked almost as sickened as Magnus felt. The soul sword was dripping with blood.

“No,” Magnus breathed out, scrambling to his feet when Alec stumbled back a pace. “No!”

The shadowhunter sunk into his arms and Magnus knelt with him. One foot splashed halfway into the very edge of the lake, but Magnus paid it no mind, just holding Alec in his lap, staring, horror-struck at the wound there, a huge slash across his chest. It was too deep, gushing too much blood. It looked almost black in the moonlight. Hazel eyes seemed dark as they came to Magnus’s own.

“I…” Alec began and blood came with his words, flecking his lips crimson. “Magnus…” His hand came back, clutching desperately and tremulously at Magnus’s shirt and his fingers caught the chain of the crucifix. “I tried... I tried to save you...” A strange gloss touched his eyes, tears welling up and spilling down his cheeks when his breath trembled. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and Magnus shook his head. “Magnus… forgive me…”

“Shh, shh,” Magnus pleaded, grasping Alec’s shaking hand in his own, holding him tight against the unsteady tremors. “Don't say that, my love. You have saved me. You _saved_ me, Alec. It’s okay. I just—I need you to hold on to me now. Hold on, Alexander. It's my turn to save you, okay? I can fix this, I promise.”

Hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him back. Magnus tried to hold on, but Alec was wrenched from his hold and the shadowhunter fell heavily to the ground, huffing a strained breath, his expression twisted in pain. They left him there. His own people, they left him, too focused on Magnus to care of the severity of his injuries.

“No, no, please!” Magnus begged, fighting against the shadowhunters that forced him away. “Please! I can still save him!”

“Why did he do that?” the Herondale boy demanded, the soul sword pressed to Magnus’s throat, still gleaming red with Alec’s blood. Magnus fought back a sob at that, simply closing his eyes. “Answer me, warlock!”

Magnus swallowed hard on his tears, lifting his eyes to the shadowhunter, this boy who would choose killing a warlock over saving his brother. “He did it to protect me.” His breath shuddered and he struggled to free himself from Jace’s grasp, but weaker now. “Please, let me go to him. I have to be with him… Please…”

Jace’s expression twisted in rage, the blade sharp and stinging as it dug into the skin of Magnus’s neck. Magnus didn’t care. His attention was on Isabelle, knelt at Alec’s side, clutching his face and feeling his throat for a pulse, her lips moving as she spoke to her wounded brother, too quiet for Magnus to hear.

“Don’t toy with me warlock,” Jace snarled. “You used your magic. There’s no other explanation… He wouldn’t risk himself for a filthy creature like you!”

“I don’t expect someone like you to understand,” Magnus whispered, staring at Alec, recognising that despaired look in Isabelle’s eyes as she lifted her gaze to him.

She was crying.

Tears ran hot down Magnus’s cheeks when he closed his eyes. It was over.

He was gone.

“Kill me…” he pleaded, barely a breath escaping his lips through the crush of such a suffocating, consuming grief.

“Gladly.”

Magnus allowed himself to think only that his death would mean him joining Alec as the cold promise of a blade touched his throat and he prepared to succumb to that calling darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brutality and needlessness of Alec's death causes an event that has never occurred in nephilim history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to @Maryliz2121, @dani_dabbles, @kokomi33, @kbl55429, @master_girl, @PhoenixStar73, @ValkyrieNyght, @brandi Mahoney, @Vallier, @all_fandoms_reader, @safedescent, and @MyShipLife for your comments on the last chapter! I apologise for the angst, but I hope to rectify it (at least somewhat) in this chapter?

The first Magnus knew of his presence was a blinding light that caused him to wince despite his closed eyes.

Jace gasped shakily at his back and the shadowhunters released him. Without his crushing grasp, the warlock fell forwards, lifting strained eyes to the sky, to the blossoming rush of light above them all, rising from the centre of the lake. The shadowhunters shied from it, Jace and even Isabelle stepping back, the light reflecting brightly in their wide eyes. It illuminated Alec’s body, the way his arm had fallen so his fingertips skimmed the water’s edge.

“ _Enough,_ ” said the angel.

His voice was a rush of whispers, somehow everywhere and nowhere all at once. It rang in Magnus’s ears, a shrill, uncomfortable kind of sensation. It hurt to look at him too long or too directly.

“Raziel,” one of the shadowhunters gasped, hushed with awe. “Come to help us against the downworlder.”

There was a crack and a flash like lightning and the air grew thick with rage. Magnus didn’t care. He hauled himself to Alec’s side, choked out a sob when he saw the pallor of his skin, the lack of expression, the blood flecked across barley parted lips. The gash was still trickling a steady flow of blood, Alec’s life draining out and staining the waters crimson.

Magic flared Magnus’s hands, but it refused to settle without a cause. Alec was gone.

“ _A Nephilim has sacrificed themselves for a demon’s child,_ ” Raziel said, echoing voice seeped in anger, and Magnus blinked up at the angel, the light catching his tears like bursts of stars. “ _Brother has slaughtered brother. It is done. I will have no more_.”

“Please,” Magnus whispered and the angel turned its light to him.

“You do not speak to the angel!” Jace snapped.

“ _Silence!_ ” Raziel commanded in a voice of thunder. “ _I will hear him and you will not interrupt again!_ ” Jace held his tongue and the angel looked once more upon Magnus. “ _Magnus Bane… your heart is heavy._ ”

Magnus swallowed hard, stroking a hand into Alec’s hair as he lowered his gaze back to the shadowhunter. If it wasn't for the blood, his face might be peaceful. “He was trying to help me,” he said, desperately trying to force his voice not to betray his grief, though the angel could apparently sense it. “He didn’t deserve to die.”

“ _And yet, he is dead_.”

Grief overwhelmed Magnus’s heart, overcoming him, a sob choking his throat. “I loved him.”

“ _As he did you, truly,_ ” Raziel said and he sounded… sympathetic, almost. “ _He prayed to me before the end. He begged for your salvation as his lifeblood ran into my waters…_ ” The light shone brighter now, flaring out like a blossoming flower. “ _Do you have a wish for me?_ ”

Magnus’s snapped up to stare at the angel. For the longest time, it seemed he could do nothing _but_ stare. “I’m a warlock,” he said dumbly. “The blood of a greater demon runs through my veins. I… I should not even be able to look upon you… Your Nephilim were clear enough of your hatred for my kind.”

“ _Hatred has been a curse of Nephilim since they were given to the world_ ,” said the angel. “ _They were made to be protectors. Instead, they became butchers. This was not the will of the angels._ ”

“Why didn’t you stop them?”

The angel was silent a moment. “ _We did not have the power to intervene. We did not have the right_.”

“You abandoned this world to your children,” Magnus said, uncaring as the light flared, lit with a spark of anger. “You watched as they slaughtered my people and you did nothing. You’re only acting now because it has affected your people. One of your children dies and only then do you act.”

“ _Understand—_ ”

“No,” interrupted Magnus, exhausted and upset and _tired_ of angelic excuse. “ _You_ understand. Alec Lightwood was the best of your Nephilim and you watched him slaughtered at your lakeside. Like so many before him in this fight, he did not deserve to die. He didn’t deserve any of this. Now, give him back to me.”

The angel regarded him a long moment. “ _This is your wish?_ ”

Magnus swallowed hard, knowing that he could end it. He could stop the shadowhunters with one command to the angel, ending the slaughter of his people forever. Alec’s sacrifice would mean something then. Alec would die a hero of the downworld. Every demon-blooded creature alive would know his name and what he did for them.

There was only one problem, because, although Magnus had been prepared to sacrifice his own life, he was _not_ prepared to sacrifice Alec’s.

“Yes,” was what Magnus said, holding Alec’s body against his chest, “give him back…”

Raziel said nothing, but the light burst outwards like a supernova and Magnus’s breath shuddered his chest as it rushed at him. He did the only thing he could. He held Alec, a hand cradling the back of his head as fell limply, pulling him close. Even if the angel’s power deemed to kill him, he would die holding Alec and that was enough.

The angel’s power washed over them and it _hurt_. It hurt like watching his people slaughtered, like holding Alec in his arms and knowing that no amount of magic could save him, like realising that he would welcome death if only it meant he could be free of such pain.

The light disappeared, the angel vanishing into himself like a collapsing star, and Magnus allowed a shaky sob to rack his throat, his forehead coming down to rest upon Alec’s own. The shadowhunter was cold and still in his arms.

“Come back,” Magnus whispered, his eyes tightly shut. “Please, Alexander, come back to me.”

A hand fell to his shoulder and Magnus looked back to see Isabelle stood beside him, tears streaking her cheeks. “Magnus,” she said and her voice was stricken with sorrow. “Magnus, listen to me, you have to go. _We_ have to go right now. They’ll kill us both if we stay.”

Magnus shook his head, blinded by grief. “No, I won’t leave him,” he protested, shrugging Isabelle off when she grabbed him more insistently, as if to try and shake some sense into him. “I won’t leave him!”

Fingertips traced a soft touch across his cheekbone.

Magnus’s eyes snapped open, blinking hard to clear the haze of tears as he lifted his head enough to look down at the man in his arms. Hazel eyes stared back at him, narrowed softly. His hand was on Magnus’s cheek and the warlock grabbed hold of his wrist, breathing hard and desperate.

“Alec,” he choked, not quite a question.

“I’m here,” said Alec and Magnus flung his arms tighter around him, holding the shadowhunter in a crushing embrace. “I’m here,” Alec whispered again, “and I love you. I love you so much.”

Magnus just sobbed softly, clutching the back of Alec’s head and holding him close, just desperate to have him here, to have him safe. He hoped that it wasn’t a dream. Maybe he was dead; maybe Jace had killed him and he just didn’t know it. Maybe this was his heaven.

It didn’t add up. Downworlders didn’t get heaven.

“Magnus,” Alec murmurs and he _sounded_ real. “Your shoulder…”

A weak, tearful chuckle escaped Magnus’s lips and he shook his head. “You’re worried about me?” he said in an incredulous sob and there was no doubt in his mind now that this was Alec Lightwood, true and living here in his arms. “Alec, you _died_ … I couldn’t save you…”

“You did save me,” said Alec, pressed close to Magnus’s chest. “You saved me.”

He sat himself up, an impressive feat considering he had been dead mere moments ago, and took Magnus’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking across the warlock’s cheeks. The kiss was chaste and tender, but so powerful. The salt sting of Magnus’s tears wet their lips.

A tremulous breath shook Magnus’s chest when Alec pulled away. That awful, vulnerable feeling was creeping up on him. He wanted to be strong now. He _needed_ to be strong. For Alec.

The shadowhunter was on his feet now, blood glistening on his shirt, torn in a diagonal slash and Magnus stared at the injury that had killed him, healed now beneath his ragged shirt. With one hand, Alec grabbed the soul sword from where it had been dropped to the ground. The other, he held out to Magnus. It was an aptly timed gesture, an offer of comfort before Magnus could spiral into despair. It was more than an offer, however, it was a choice. He had so few of those in his life.

Magnus took his hand on the side of his uninjured shoulder, allowing Alec to help him to his feet. The shadowhunter held his hand in a lingering grasp.

“I know what you did,” he uttered, narrowing his eyes. “When I say you saved me, I know what I’m talking about. I saw it like a — like a vision, almost. You could’ve stopped all of it… all of this pain you and your people have to go through… Why didn’t you use the wish to stop that?”

Swallowing hard, Magnus simply shook his head. “I couldn’t lose you,” he said, feeling that rush again, that dam threatening to burst. It was going to break him, tearing him between desperate guilt for choosing Alec over his people and breath-robbing relief that Alec was living and breathing again. “Alexander—”

There was a hesitant movement to the side, not quick or exaggerated enough to be truly hostile, but Alec moved very firmly in front of Magnus, holding an arm out to push the warlock behind him. Jace looked more uncomfortable than anything, his posture straight yet his hands fidgeting uncertainly at his sides, unarmed.

“Alec,” he said stiffly, barely meeting his brother’s eye. “The warlock, it can’t—”

“He is not an it. His name is Magnus,” Alec growls, something powerful about him then, something akin to leadership as he swept a warning glare across the gathered shadowhunters, “and if _any_ of you lay a hand on him, you will answer to me.”

The nephilim said nothing, just stared at him like he was their wrathful angel in human form. Now that they had a moment to breathe, Magnus realised what they must think. It was Alec’s death that had drawn the angel out, Alec’s murder at the hands of his adoptive brother was what Raziel rose for; the angel himself had suggested as much. It wasn’t for Magnus, it wasn’t even for Alec really. It was because the Nephilim had finally taken it too far.

After _centuries_ of mindlessly slaughtering downworlders, murdering children, Raziel had drawn the line at one shadowhunter killing another. That was it. The fact that the wound was inflicted by the soul sword and Alec’s blood had run into the lake was undoubtedly a contributing factor, a stirring that woke Raziel, but the short of it was that the angels and their children cared only for their own.

“Magnus,” a voice broke softly through his grim thought process, and he blinked, lifted his gaze to meet Alec’s own. The shadowhunter was turned fully towards him, his back to the other shadowhunters—an impressive display of courage considering what had happened last time one of them turned their back on shadowhunters. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

 _Not all of them_ , Magnus reflected and lifted a hand to Alec’s arm. “I should be asking you…”

Alec shook his head, his eyes fixed on Magnus’s shoulder now and he lifted his free hand to lightly touch his upper arm, carefully away from the injury. “I’m fine, Magnus. You’re hurt,” he murmured, his eyes narrowed in anxiety. “I thought you’d start to heal by now. The wound…”

“It’s adamas,” said Magnus, “and it’s healing slowly. My magic isn’t internalised anymore and…” He looked to Jace and the other nephilim over Alec’s shoulder. Over half of the group had disappeared. It wasn't exactly reassuring. “It doesn’t feel safe using it. I don't know what's going to happen now, but I'm not safe here.”

The fingers trailing his arm lift to his cheek, the touch so tender that Magnus risked closing his eyes. “You’re safe… I’m going to keep you safe and I’m going to help you,” Alec said and Magnus knew that he meant it.

 _Not every angel-blooded_ , he thought as Alec put a hand to the small of his back, leading him safe through his fellow shadowhunters. They parted, clearing a path to let the pair through. Wide eyes stared at Alec in awe, at Magnus in disgust and confusion, and Alec glared at them, his hand sliding to Magnus’s waist and pulling him closer. _Not all cared only for their own._


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus return to the heart of Alicante with the former's mind set on getting Magnus back to his family's manor so that they might regroup and conjure a new strategy. They encounter a number of shadowhunters along the way, news of the lake spreading fast throughout the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @all_fandoms_reader, @Nanuk08, @kbl55429, @lawsofchaos, @dani_dabbles, @Katherine_Grant_Cordell, @kokomi33, @master_girl, and @Vallier for your comments on the last chapter. I’m so glad to hear positive things because I had so many ways this story could have climaxed. This way was my personal favourite and it’s so nice to have people talking positively about it.

Alicante was silent when Alec led Magnus back into the city.

The accords hall was smoking faintly from a few burning craters. Alec didn’t have to do too many deductions to conclude that it was Magnus’s doing. The power of his magic was something Alec had never seen before; the destruction and the righteous beauty and Alec was left breathless when he saw what the warlock had done.

Clearly his fellow shadowhunters didn’t see the majesty in it. They were gathered like birds around roadkill, lined up all down the road to the hall, come to ogle the downworlder and the shadowhunter who escorted him. Alec’s plan was to take Magnus to Lightwood manor which, unfortunately for them, was located very centrally in the city. He had just wanted to get Magnus somewhere safe where he could patch him up and they could figure out what to do next.

It didn’t seem to be going their way; though when did it ever go in a way that benefitted any downworlder.

Isabelle flanked Magnus’s other side, eyes narrowing right back at the shadowhunters who stared, openly hostile towards them as they were to Magnus. The look was enough to have the ones she stared at blinking in shock. They all knew Isabelle as loyal to The Clave. She was risking everything by escorting them like this.

It only got worse from there because, down the hallway of lined shadowhunters, a familiar figure was striding towards them. Beside him were a number of those who had been at the lakeside, the ones who had fled after the angel rose, after Alec had returned to the world of the living.

Both parties stopped there in the courtyard before the accords hall, facing one another down like some very small and very imbalanced armies.

“Father,” said Alec, readjusting his grip on the soul sword, drawing deliberate attention to the blade.

“Alec,” Robert Lightwood replied and his voice came very slow, very careful. “I’ve been told some… troubling tales. Speak the truth now and we can avoid a public hearing.”

“Oh, a public hearing?” asked Alec, managing to sound quite innocent, relishing the disapproving twist of Robert’s mouth. “These tales, father, which would you like me to speak the truth of? The fact that I have the soul-sword and Raziel’s blessing or the fact that I will kill anyone who tries to hurt Magnus Bane?”

Robert sniffed disapprovingly. “Both, I suppose.”

“Well, they’re both true,” Alec said. “Now, I need to speak to the inquisitor, if she has a moment. Would you let her know I’m waiting?”

His father stared at him. “Alec,” he said, firmer now. “I don’t think you realise how serious this is. You compelled a wish from the angel. _The_ wish. This is cause to order your execution.”

At his side, Magnus shifted in clear anxiety, grabbing his wrist, and Alec shook his head, holding the warlock at bay. “I didn’t compel anything from Raziel,” said Alec, clenched his jaw, “because I was dead at the time. I had quite recently been murdered by my own brother.”

Robert opened his mouth to speak, but one of the shadowhunters at his back leaned over and muttered something in his ear. Whatever it was, it made Robert look at him differently. There was something skin to trepidation, to _respect_ almost, but Alec was sure he must be imaging it.

“Someone tell her,” Robert ordered to the group and one of the younger Nephilim peeled off and ran in the direction of the accords hall.

They stood in a tense silence for a moment.

“Well, as interesting as it would be to just stand here waiting for the inquisitor to decide what she’d like to do, I need to go to the house,” said Alec, fighting to maintain his feigned confidence. “We’ll need some time, but have her send for us when she’s gathered the council.”

Robert gaped at him. “There—There’s so many things I need to clarify from that. Who is ‘us’ exactly?”

“Magnus and I,” Alec said to a round of gasps and mutterings.

Robert laughed at him. Alec doesn’t grant him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Well, that… that simply isn’t possible. By all rights the downworlder should be in The Gard by now. In fact, why wait for the trip?” He snapped his fingers and gestured forward. “Get him, but do not touch my son. I’ll deal with him myself.”

Alec gripped the soul sword tighter, clenching his jaw and holding Magnus at his back. Behind him, Isabelle flourished her whip out. Not a single soul moved to approach them. Alec stared at the shadowhunters all around them, frowning softly at their reluctant and hesitant expression, their uncertain glances.

“Kill the warlock, now!” Robert yelled, turned to the group behind him.

“Do _not_ touch him,” said Alec, but there was no need for his threat. Despite Robert’s order, no one made a move to attack them. “I meant what I said. If anyone touches him, I swear to the angel, I will kill them.” He glared at his father as Robert turned wide eyes on him. “Trust me, I will not be lenient with that threat regardless of who provokes me.”

Robert gritted his teeth. “Are you threatening me?”

“Yes,” Alec said plainly. “I wasn’t exactly hiding that fact. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to tend to my boyfriend.”

Robert began spluttering out some protest, but Alec didn’t stop to listen. He turned, facing the shadowhunters gathered to the left of them, blocking the street that led to his family’s manor house. Alec readjusted his grip on the hilt of the soul sword, narrowing his eyes at the shifting crowd.

“Are you going to move or do I have to make you?” Alec asked, shocking even himself with how calm his voice came.

The crowd exchanged an uncertain kind of look, and promptly made a path. Alec grabbed Magnus’s hand, lacing their fingers and pulling him forward through the crowd. He kept a suspicious eye on the shadowhunters that surrounded them, watching intently for any sign of movement that might be hostile towards the warlock.

The only movement was the shift of eyes to watch them pass.

Alec led the way. He didn’t release Magnus’s hand the entire time. Isabelle followed them, keeping an eye out at their back and Alec treasured her support now more than ever. She could have chosen not to align herself with them, but she didn’t; she made her intentions to protect them very clear and she was risking everything in the process.

Magnus didn’t say a word the entire time. Alec tried to catch his eye, squeezed his hand to try and grasp his attention, but Magnus refused to do so much as look at him. Alec could practically see him processing. It was a lot to take in. For a warlock to be an Alicante was unheard of, certainly not one who wasn’t killed on sight.

Lightwood Manor was an imposing structure in the centre of the city, an unnecessary kind of building with high, arched windows and their family sigil worked into the high metal fences that bordered the house. When they had ascended the small set of stairs up to the front of the building, Alec placed a hand to the door, his thoughts on his family and his blood, and the manor opened for him in a dark maw.

The interior was shadowed and unwelcoming, and Alec had a tightness in his chest as he stepped over the threshold into the house. He hadn’t been back here since he was a child. He had not been welcome in Alicante, not possessing high enough status to have any reason to return.

Inside, Alec released Magnus’s hand, turning to speak and finding his sister. Isabelle embraced him tightly, clinging to him like she would never let go. Dumbfounded, Alec hugged her back. He couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t Magnus had hugged him. His body craved it suddenly. He held her closer.

“Look after him,” Isabelle uttered, barely a breath, in his ear. “Don’t go to the inquisitor without me.”

Alec nodded and she released him. Her eyes were darker than his own. Alec had always seen their differences more than anything. Perhaps it was time for him to focus on their similarities.

Isabelle turned and went to Magnus, who had wandered a few paces into the entranceway of the house, staring at the high ceiling above them. The shadowhunter got in front of him, pressed a hand to his cheek, giving him a sympathetic look. Her lips moved, but Alec couldn’t quite make out the words. It must have been a question. Magnus responded with nothing but a quick nod and Isabelle broke away from him, departed further into the house.

She was giving them space, and Alec was grateful for it.

The doors of Lightwood manor shut behind them and Alec could finally breathe, finally release that surge of feigned confidence he had been clinging to since his resurrection at the lake. His hands lingered at the door a moment, braced there like he could hold the world away.

“Alec,” Magnus whispered, now that they were finally alone and Alec turned, strode the short distance to embrace him.

The warlock melted in his arms, his barriers crumbling under the shadowhunter’s touch. A shaky sob racked his body and Alec’s heart broke a little. His hand lifted to cradle the back of Magnus’s head, holding him close, managing to keep his composure when Magnus’s hand’s fisted into the back of Alec’s jacket.

“It’s okay,” said Alec, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of his head. It just made the warlock sob louder, digressing into his cries. “Magnus, please… please, stop. It’s okay, Magnus. Look at me.” His hands came to Magnus’s face, gently tilting his head up. The gold eyes glowed in the flood of tears. “Look at me, you’re okay. _We’re_ okay.”

“You died,” Magnus sobbed, his hands readjusting a desperate grip on Alec’s jacket. “I held you, Alec. I tried to save you, but I—I couldn’t…”

Alec shook his head, his thumbs pushing the tears off of Magnus’s cheeks, smudging the dirt and the traces of blood on his face. “There was nothing you could’ve done. I made my choice.”

Magnus didn’t reply. His eyes were distant and lost and Alec would do anything to make that expression go away.

“Let me fix you up, okay?” Alec murmured. “Okay?”

Magnus just nodded, completely non-verbal. Alec understood.

It was only upstairs in the family bathroom, Magnus sat on the floor with his back against the edge of the bath, his shirt in a heap beside him and Alec spreading first aid supplies all across the floor, that Magnus spoke again. It was the question that Alec had dreaded, but knew needed answering.

“What do we do now…?”

Alec was quiet a moment, thinking through his answer and knowing that anything would be unsatisfactory. “One step at a time,” he said, ensuring his voice was as calm as he could get it. “Right now, I’m going to get you patched up. What happens after that depends on how the inquisitor reacts to hearing what happened at the lake.”

Magnus shook his head, his eyes following Alec as the shadowhunter picked out what he needed from the medical necessities. “The way they looked at you…” he began and Alec couldn’t pin that emotion in his voice, “it was like… it was like they were afraid. Afraid but… in _awe_ of you.”

Shaking his head, Alec began cleaning the blood from Magnus’s shoulder. “They shouldn’t be,” he said. “I didn’t compel Raziel. It was you.”

The grip on his wrist came so suddenly that Alec almost wrenched his hand back. Instead, he forced himself to simply lift his gaze, staring into Magnus’s wide, panicked eyes. It took Alec a moment to register the emotion there just because it was so uncommon to see it in a physical form.

Magnus was scared.

“No one can _ever_ know what really happened at that lake, do you understand me, Alexander?”

“They know, Magnus,” said Alec, shaking his head as he fought to remember. The vision Raziel had shown him had been strange, like snippets stitched together, tumbling over one another, every second playing out slightly out of time with the next. “Jace knows anyway. He must have heard you make that wish. The others… I don’t know, maybe they were too far back?”

“They _can’t_ know,” hissed Magnus. “Alec, if they find out that a _downworlder_ has compelled a wish from their angel, you will lose everything. You’ll be executed as a traitor and everything will go back to the way it was, don’t you see? You have this authority now because they think Raziel gifted you with life and with the sword. If they find out that’s a lie, then everything will fall apart.”

Alec swallowed, and nodded a little shakily. “You’re right,” he said, returning his attention to the wound, layering gauze over the pierced mark in Magnus’s shoulder. “We need to play this carefully. We need them to think that Raziel rose for the good of the downworld.” His jaw clenched. “Like he should have years ago.”

Magnus eyed him strangely, but said nothing in reply. He hadn’t so much as flinched through the entirety of Alec cleaning and wrapping his shoulder. That was Magnus, though. Magnus was strong and never in a hurry to show personal weakness, especially in times so dire.

The Clave would see that strength as rebellion, as insolence, but Alec would protect him. From Jace, from his father, even from the inquisitor. The Clave would not get Magnus Bane. This, Alec vowed to himself; he would die before they lay another hand on him.

“I love you,” said Alec, closing his eyes. “I need you to know that… and if something goes wrong, I want you to run. Don’t try to save me. I’ll buy you time. I just need to know you’ll be safe.”

There was a beat of silence. A hand pressed to Alec’s cheek, tilting his head up and he opened his eyes to see Magnus gazing at him with a fondness and a sadness that compressed something in Alec’s chest. It felt as though his heart was trying to implode itself.

“I’m tired of running, Alexander,” Magnus replied, his voice very soft, but entirely steady. “We are in this together. We have been for years… Whatever happens next, I’m with you.”

Alec shook his head, but couldn’t find the heart to protest or to convince Magnus otherwise. As desperately as he wished Magnus could be safe and far away from this place, it was good to be with him. It was always good to be with him, even in their darkest hours, their lowest points.

At their side, there was a soft nock on the door and Alec brushed the heat from his eyes, concerned that he might be crying, or at least about to, turning an expectant gaze to the door when it clicked and prised open. Isabelle was stood there on the threshold, her eyes dark and anxious.

“It’s time,” he said and Magnus’s hand dropped to Alec’s shoulder, holding him tight. “The inquisitor wants to see you.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus meet with the inquisitor, a woman renowned for her hatred of downworlders. Tired of the fight and the disrespect, Alec takes a stand for all to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who commented on the last chapter: @kbl55429, @music9009, @dani_dabbles, @jillyfae, @all_fandoms_reader, @master_girl, @Vallier, and @magnusaleclightwoodbane!
> 
> Guys, I think this might be the penultimate chapter - I've got an epilogue, so there are at least two chapters left, but oh my god I didn't realise how close we are to the end of this story! I'm actually really sad because I've loved writing this and I don't want it to end!

The inquisitor had requested to see them in the council chamber and Alec did what he could to hide his concern from Magnus.

That was where the council decided on the outcome of hearings for shadowhunters who were suspected to have downworlder involvement. Alec supposed that there was no mere suspicion in his case. The entirety of Alicante had seen him with Magnus, seen him openly and defiantly protecting a warlock from the death that the rest of the shadowhunters believed that he so rightly deserved.

Dozens of shadowhunters had been pardoned in this room. The only reason the council held trials at all was to keep the culture of fear alive and active in the hearts of their soldiers. It was a tactic to ensure they were continually motivated to hunt and slaughter downworlders. The Clave were cruel, even to their own.

Magnus hesitated before the Accords Hall, faltering and staring up at the arched entranceway, golden eyes reflecting the stark lightning. The damage of his magic was still very visible in the smoking craters blemishing the building. Alec paused with him, taking his hand in a gentle grasp.

“You don’t have to come in there with me,” he said, understanding Magnus’s aversion. This was where it started after all. This was where his people were slaughtered. “You can go back to the house. Izzy will protect you. She’ll get you to safety if something goes wrong.”

Magnus shook his head, turning to his gaze to Alec’s face and squeezing his hand. “Together.”

Alec gave him a stiff nod, following his lead. Only when Magnus was ready did they enter the hall. Inside, they were met by a delegate that Alec didn’t know the name of, a man who wouldn’t meet Alec’s eyes, who gestured to them in silence and led the way up an ornate staircase and to the council chamber. Isabelle announced she would wait out in the hallway, and gave Alec a meaningful kind of look. He nodded a soft confirmation and she leaned herself against the wall outside the chamber. She was protecting them, looking out for an ambush or something of the like.

She watched closely as Alec and Magnus were led inside.

A large, squared room, the council chamber was lit in nothing but candlelight, casting a warm glow across the polished cedar of the table that dominated the room. It was a long rectangular table, the inquisitor placed in an ornate chair at one end, six councilmembers lined on either side of her. Alec’s mother was among them. She met her son’s eyes, a strange mixture of sorrow and awe, confusion and… fear, almost.

It was a ridiculous notion. Alec gave it very little thought, and turned his attention to the inquisitor.

A formidable woman, Imogen Herondale was notorious for her sharp tongue and her no-nonsense attitude. Her hatred of downworlders was unrivalled. As Jace’s grandmother, it had been her daughter-in-law whom the wolves had killed and half-consumed. Her son had died in the hunt for the perpetrators, throwing himself recklessly into the fight and being scratched in the process.

He had killed himself rather than risk turning, dying right there among the slaughtered wolves.

Dark eyes surveyed Alec, an unreadable emotion there on her stern face. It became clear when her gaze slid over to Magnus, and a merciless kind of anger filled her eyes, a bloodlust that Alec had seen far too often in his colleagues at the institute.

“The warlock is not permitted here.”

Alec clenched his jaw, swallowing the irritation that rose like bile in his throat. “His name is Magnus,” he uttered, fighting to keep his voice calm, “and he needs to be here for this. If you’ve heard anything about what’s happened in the last hour, then you know why he’s here and you won’t try to send him away.”

The inquisitor said nothing for a long moment. Her expression never altered, but she gestured a hand, apparently inviting Alec to sit.

Instead, Alec cleared his throat, ready to conjure some big speech about justice and freedom, fully prepared to remind this council of the horrors of the past, of those mundane wars that they ‘had no right to get involved with’, but he was cut off before his first word.

“Mr Lightwood,” said the inquisitor, resting her hands upon the table, “before we begin, I’d like to be very clear about something… If this meeting does not go well for you, and it’s very likely to be the case, I have full authority to order your execution.”

Alec stared at her a moment, breathing very purposefully as he considered his answer. The inquisitor was looking at Magnus like he was some dirt that Alec had tracked in on his shoe and it was making him very angry. It had been an issue before, of course, Alec had always hated the way that his colleagues regarded downworlders.

He’d had enough of it.

“No, you don’t,” he said and drew all those dark, judgemental eyes to him.

The inquisitor gave him a hard look. “Excuse me?”

“You have no right to sentence me,” uttered Alec, turning his head to acknowledge Magnus when the warlock took his wrist in an anxious grasp. His met the inquisitor’s steeled look with a steady glare of his own. “Do you know what happened at the lake?”

“I have heard… rumours.”

“You’ve heard the truth, you’re just refusing to acknowledge it,” said Alec, knowing full well the inquisitor hadn’t heard the entire story, not the truth of it anyway.

Lifting the sword, he placed it upon the table, resting his hand over the blade. It glowed eerily in the candlelight of the council chambers, ready to burn if Alec should lie. The council stared at the weapon, shrinking back a little from the sight of it, regarding it with wary, guarded eyes.

“I swear, under the influence of the soul sword, I speak the truth,” he said, ensuring to choose his words very carefully because one wrong step and they would know. “Raziel brought me back from the dead after Jace killed me. He was trying to murder Magnus Bane and I couldn’t allow that to happen. Raziel said himself that he rose because the Nephilim have finally crossed a line.”

Alec took his hand from the sword, watched as the weapon lost its glow.

“He told the truth,” said Maryse, a little hushed.

“So now you know,” Alec muttered, pulled out a chair and placed a gentle hand to Magnus’s arm to guide him down. The council shifted almost in unison, discomfort sweeping through the room, but Alec didn’t care. He sat himself next to Magnus, eyeing the inquisitor. “You want to tell me again how you have the authority to order my execution?”

“I am the inquisitor of The Clave—”

“And you believe your authority to be higher than that of the angel?” asked Alec with an innocent tilt of his head. “You think Raziel will be pleased if you kill me just hours after he resurrected me?”

The inquisitor shunned her gaze down to the table, staring at the polished wood. Alec could practically see her trying to work out a way around this, trying to figure out how she could order Alec’s execution without causing uproar from the Nephilim. The tension eased from her shoulders a little. Her eyes lifted to Alec with a slow inhale.

“What do you want?”

Alec exchanged a quick glance with Magnus, who just seemed incredibly uncomfortable, before lifting his head high. This was it. “We demand the immediate termination of all downworlder hunting. Raziel himself knows that we have gone too far. The downworlders are to be left to live freely like the mundanes.”

“We cannot allow these creatures to simply roam free. You ask too much.”

Alec glared at her. “If it’s too much to request a cease of genocide, then I’m afraid we’re going to have a problem.”

“We can’t let them roam free in society.”

Alec clenched his jaw and, beside him, Magnus shifted minutely. “If I could suggest an alternative,” he said, drawing the eyes of the shadowhunters. “If society is not an option, then we will leave society… There are places in this world that downworlders can live without mundane interaction. There are wildernesses where we can build our homes.”

The inquisitor curled her lip in disgust. “You expect us to allow you to simply… be?”

“Who are you to decide which of us live and which of us die?” Alec snarled, pressing his hands to the table and pushing himself to standing. “Unless you deem your word higher than Raziel’s?”

There was a low murmur around the table and the inquisitor shifted uncomfortably, lowering her gaze. “That was not my intention.”

“Then I will hear no more of it,” said Alec and his voice commanded such power, such finality that he surprised even himself. He was _done_ with being meek, with being nothing but insignificant in the eyes of The Clave. He was going to be absolutely formidable from this day forth and The Clave will _fear_ him or they will respect him and there would be no in between. “Are there any more objections to Mr Bane’s proposal?”

Not a soul spoke up in protest.

“Good,” Alec said, “I’ll write it up in law. No one interferes with downworlders ever again… and we take the angelic power from the ley lines. There’s no need to track them now.” He cast his gaze around the table. “If there’s nothing else.”

“Mr Lightwood,” a voice spoke up and Alec looked to it, locking eyes with his mother of all people. “The other institutes must be informed of The Clave’s decision… if this is to be a worldwide scheme of course.”

 _The Clave’s decision_. Alec wondered in silence exactly how this was _their_ decision.

“They will be told,” he said.

“Only the inquisitor has the power to make that kind of decision,” the inquisitor protested, though her heart didn’t seem to be in it.

There was a moment of silence. Alec wondered briefly how far he could take this, how far he could stretch his gift from the angel. Every person in this room believed that Raziel had granted him the sword and his life and not a soul who had been present at the lake had told them otherwise. Alec wondered how this would all change when they realised a _downworlder_ had compelled a wish from the angel.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and Alec turned, his heart sinking as he locked eyes with his brother because this was it. Jace need only speak the truth and Alec’s power would be over. Alec’s _life_ may very well be over.

“As Alec has made this decision, I’d say there’s been a transfer of power,” Jace said and Alec could only stare. “He has the angel on his side… It’s clear who Raziel has chosen. We can’t very well ignore his decision now, can we?”

The inquisitor shifted. “Are you suggesting…?”

“That Alec take your job?” Jace asked, too sweet, too deadly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“This from a boy who would murder his own brother,” one of the consul’s growled and the room grumbled in agreement. “What’s your game, Herondale?”

It was insane to Alec how quickly the tides had turned. Jace, the golden boy, was being ridiculed and questioned by Clave superiors. Their indifference of Alec had turned to awe in the wake of the angel’s gift, and their love of Jace had turned to hatred as it was him who had so displeased Raziel.

Jace lowered his gaze, glaring at his feet. “The angel has spoken,” he said stiffly. “I am merely suggesting that we listen.”

The room was silent a moment.

“All in favour of endorsing Alec Lightwood for our next inquisitor?” one of the councilmembers asked.

Alec watched them, sinking back into his chair, gaping as the majority of the room’s inhabitants raised their hands—his mother included. They were supporting him. Of course, they only did it because they didn’t know the entire truth, but Alec wasn’t about to correct that. If he was inquisitor, he could change everything. He could fix The Clave from within.

He looked to Magnus, frowning softly when he saw the warlock simply staring at the table, his hands clenched into fists in his lap. He didn’t look happy, far from it. Alec reached to his lap, closing his hand over Magnus’s own, just holding him, trying to comfort him in silence.

“Well, congratulations, Mr Lightwood,” the inquisitor said in a voice that suggested she would rather be eating dirt. “I will vacate my office. You begin tomorrow.”

Alec blinked hard, standing when she did. The councilmembers were departing too. One or two of them gave Alec a nod as they departed and Alec was too overwhelmed to do much more than nod in return. It was all happening so fast. Barely more than an hour ago, he had been a rebel and a traitor, desperate to save Magnus and uncaring as to how he did it.

Now, he was going to be the inquisitor. He didn’t understand it in the slightest, but he was so glad for it. Under his leadership, he could ensure that the Nephilim didn’t slip back into slaughtering downworlders. They could be safe. Shadowhunters could go back to protecting people.

Turning, Alec stared down at Magnus, gently taking his hand and helping him to his feet. The warlock seemed to be as shocked by it all as he was. Alec grabbed his hands, holding him tight and drawing those golden eyes to him. He looked so distant. It hurt a little to see him like that, like he didn’t believe this was happening.

Alec felt the immediate need to reassure him, to convince him that this was real.

“You’re free,” he whispered, breathed in shaking elation as a joyful, if not slightly disbelieving, grin began to form on his face. “Magnus, you’re free.”

Magnus looked at him sadly and, at first, Alec didn’t understand why. It hadn’t sunk in yet. “You’re going to be the inquisitor,” Magnus said, a soft tremor to his voice.

It hit him then and Alec’s heart constricted in his chest, sinking down to his stomach. Starting tomorrow, he was going to be the inquisitor of The Clave. Starting right now, Magnus was going to be free, but outside of society. There was no way for them to do that and continue to see one another as they had before.

Magnus would live in some untouched wilderness away from mundanes and shadowhunters alike, building a safe haven for his people. Alec would live in Alicante, filling his days with convincing the rest of his race to change their bloodthirsty ways. In securing downworlder safety, they had inadvertently caused their separation.

In the half-deserted council chambers, Alec met Magnus’s sorrowful eyes, and his heart clenched in despair as he came to understand the extent of what he had done.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec does his best to convince the current inquisitor to allow Magnus to stay in the city. Her refusal means very little because, as it turns out, Magnus himself doesn't want to stay. As desperately as they want to stay together, both must come to terms with the impossibility of that dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to @all_fandoms_reader, @master_girl, @jillyfae, @dani_dabbles, @magnusaleclightwoodbane, @sosowhat, and @Vallier for you comments on the last chapter!
> 
> So, I could go into lots of detail to explain the ending that’s coming, but I’ll keep it simple: this is the most meaningful and impactful way I could end this story. It’s truest to the characters and their development and it’s honestly the only ending that makes sense in this world I created. There's no way it could ever have been happy (at least not fully happy), not in this world.
> 
> I know that it’ll probably be disappointing to a lot of you and I'm sorry for that, but this is how it was always going to end. All I’ll say now is hold out for the epilogue (because it's coming very soon) and enjoy!

Alec did everything he could to make it work.

Leaving Magnus in Isabelle’s safety—ignoring the warlock’s calling queries—, he went after the inquisitor, his mind racing with a hundred different possible solutions. Catching her in the hallway outside her office, Alec launched immediately into numerous arguments, points that sounded convincing in his head but came out jumbled and confused in his desperation.

The inquisitor shut him down instantly, reminding him that they had come to an agreement and that was the end of it.

Downworlders were to be left in peace, but they were to remain very firmly out of sight and as far away from society as geographically possible. Magnus himself had made the proposal and Alec had wholeheartedly supported it without even considering what it would mean for _them_.

He wanted Magnus with him.

As soon as the warlock had made it clear what was going to happen, Alec’s dream had shattered. It hadn’t even been clear at the time, but now it was all he could see. He saw Magnus in an apartment in the city, greeting Alec as he came home, rising on his toes ever so slightly to kiss the new inquisitor’s cheek. Alec wanted that. He wanted it more than anything in the world.

The current inquisitor was standing in his way, an immovable object, insisting that, under their deal, Magnus needed to leave _now_. Arguing led him nowhere and Alec didn’t want to risk jeopardising what he had gained. He knew how fragile it was.

Jace had only backed him because he was afraid. He wouldn’t even look Alec in the eye anymore; when he had tried to reach his brother before he departed the room, Jace had just ducked his head, muttered some congratulations and slunk off somewhere. Their mother, Maryse, had only supported him because Alec’s promotion to inquisitor was the only meaningful thing he had ever done in his life—at least in her eyes. The Lightwood name was leading The Clave and that was all that mattered to her.

Alec was forced to play his new role carefully. He knew that better than anyone.

Alec returned to Magnus and Isabelle frustrated and upset and failing miserably in trying to hide it. As he approached, Magnus moved to clutch his arms.

“What was that about?” he asked with an anxious shake of his head. “Where did you go?”

Alec scuffed the heel of his boot against the floor, breathing out sharply and lifting a hand to hold Magnus in return. “I went to speak to the inquisitor. I was trying to convince her to let you live here with me. She refused, but she’s resigning _tomorrow_. Once she’s gone, I can figure out a way—”

“Alec,” Magnus said and his voice holds a firmness that warns Alec not to continue, so he doesn’t. Those golden eyes soften when Alec’s own gaze settles on his face. “Alexander, I don’t want that.”

The words are like feeling the anguished slash of that blade all over again, like falling to the lakeside and bleeding out, like being wrenched from Magnus’s arms and dying alone and believing that Jace would kill Magnus when he was gone. Magnus didn’t want to be with him.

“What…” he began and, god, he couldn’t breathe. “Did I do something…?”

Magnus shook his head. “No, Alexander, of course not. It’s not anything that you said or anything that you did, but… I could never live in your world.” His eyes were round and sad. “I can’t trust shadowhunters, Alec. I can never forgive them for what they’ve done to my people.”

Those words brought a terrible wave of clarity. This city, this was where it all began. This was where Magnus watched his friends and his mentors slaughtered. This was where he was thrust into leadership, where he was first forced to take the world upon his shoulders. Alicante and the shadowhunters who lived there had taken everything from him.

It was selfish—blindingly selfish—of Alec to even suggest that Magnus live in a place that had caused him so much pain. The warlock deserved to be safe and _feel_ safe more than anyone. Even if he had the inquisitor’s protection, Alec knew in his heart that he would never be able to feel at ease in Alicante.

Alec let the realisation sink in for a moment, closed his eyes and just paused, just felt Magnus’s hands on his arms, letting that ground him.

“I understand,” he said, because he did. It didn’t make it any easier. “It’s okay. You go to Canada, find your people. Go and live and I… I’ll ensure your protection from here. I swear, it will get better. I’m going to make them see and then… then you can come home. You can all come home.”

Even before he was even finished, Magnus was shaking his head. “Come with us,” he pleaded.

Alec laughed. It was sad and startled and didn’t come more than one quick burst, but he couldn’t hold it back. “What?”

“I expected to die,” said Magnus, swallowed hard. “I did. I was ready, and, in my mind, you would go with Luke. You’d cross the border into Canada and no one would bat an eye. You’d be safe with my people. I was fine with dying because of that, because I thought you’d be safe.”

Alec shook his head in confusion. “But you didn’t die, Magnus.”

“Exactly… and…” Magnus closed his eyes, shook his head. “Alec, as of tomorrow, you’re the _inquisitor_. You’re supposed to run The Clave and I… I can’t leave you to deal with these shadowhunters. We both know that we might never be able to return. If you came with us…”

He trailed like he knew that it wasn’t possible. He _did_ know; he knew as well as Alec himself that it just couldn’t be. Alec needed to stay and Magnus needed to leave. The shadowhunters would never accept a warlock living in the city and, even if they did, Magnus would never be comfortable surrounded by the people who wanted to kill him.

“We could have been free together,” Magnus whispered.

For a long moment, neither of them said a word. Alec savoured in the silence, in that calmness before he had to break whatever semblance of delusion that they could stay together remained.

“No, we couldn’t” he said finally, watching a single tear fall down Magnus’s cheek. “We can’t.”

* * *

They went outside the city to say their goodbyes.

Alec could tell how stifled Magnus was feeling with all the shadowhunters around him, so Isabelle covered for them, telling those seeking Alec out that he was seeing Magnus out of the city. As much as Alec was grateful for her and all she had done for the downworld over the years, he wanted Magnus to himself for what he knew could be their final moments together.

Magnus looked _right_ in the forest. Despite everything, despite his fashionable clothes and his makeup and his jewellery, he still radiated a beautiful, natural kind of energy. Magic was from nature; Magnus liked to say that sometimes. Alec knew that him leaving was for the best, best for him and for his people, knew that Magnus was connected to the world around him in ways that Alec would never understand.

“You’re so beautiful,” Alec murmured and Magnus turned back to him.

His cat eyes reflected luminously in the moonlight and Alec’s breath caught like he was being stared down by a predator. A primal tug in his gut ached for him to have his fight or flight reflex kick in, but it was Magnus. It was Magnus and he was gorgeous in his natural element.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” Magnus uttered, approaching him. The moonlight shifted from his eyes as he came forward, giving them that soft glow instead of the harsh reflection. “We’ve been putting it off by coming out here.”

“Yeah,” said Alec, swallowing hard. “I just… I wanted to be alone with you when we… when we had to say goodbye. I wanted it to just be us.” He took the warlock’s hands in his own, frowning his anxiety to find the warlock shaking. “Magnus…”

“I’m scared for you,” Magnus admitted, lifting his gaze to Alec. “What if this is all a trap? What if they send you to The Gard the moment I leave?”

Alec shook his head. “Magnus, I have the will of the angels on my side. No one will touch me, I promise... Word came back from the Toronto institute and they've agreed to our terms. The others will soon follow. You won’t ever have to see a shadowhunter as long as you live, but I need to establish other havens across the globe. The institutes are gathering for us, Magnus, but you have to go. I’ve secured this place for you and now I have to do the same for others. I need to stay here... for them.”

Magnus shook his head, tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to leave you here,” he whispered, blinking up at Alec and the shadowhunter shook his head, unused to hearing such emotion from the warlock. “I _can’t_.”

“Yes, you can,” soothed Alec. “You were leading your people to safety long before we met. You don’t need me, Magnus. You can do this on your own.”

“Maybe I don’t _want_ to be on my own anymore,” said Magnus, grabbing Alec’s hands and holding him tight. “You think I don’t need you, but I _want_ you, Alexander. I want to be with you.”

Alec breathed out slowly, prised their hands apart and lifted his to Magnus’s face. His lips were soft and warm beneath Alec’s own. A single tear traced down his cheek when they broke apart and Alec pushed it away with the pad of his thumb, pressing his forehead lightly against Magnus’s own.

“I’ll find you,” he said, barely a breath. “I promise you, when everything is in place, I will come and find you... but you have to go now.”

Magnus pressed a hand to Alec’s cheek, cat eyes glossy with tears. “I’ll wait for you,” he promised. “As long as it takes, Alexander, I’ll wait.”

The silence stretched out too long and Magnus inhaled shakily, glanced behind him and allowed a tiny storm of gold magic to engulf his hand. Casting it out, he conjured a portal there in the forest, lighting everything around them, casting the trees in long, dark shadows. In the plate of shimmering gold, another forest lay, different than this one, shadowy figures standing expectant.

His people were waiting for him.

Alec had called Luke, telling him everything as concisely as possible, telling him mainly that Magnus was coming back to them. Magnus was alive and safe and he was coming home—to their new home anyway.

Alec gazed into the portal, his throat convulsing in a hard swallow, tightening his grip on the warlock’s hands as he lifted them to his lips, kissing his knuckles just so briefly before they parted. “I love you, Magnus Bane…” he said, gently backing Magnus into the portal, knowing that he needed to be pushed. “I will love you until my last breath.”

A sob caught Magnus’s voice as the portal closed in around him. “Alexander—”

The gold rushed in and Alec’s eyes stayed on him until the warlock had faded into gold like a stone sinking in the water. The forest that bordered Alicante was eerily quiet in the wake of the portal’s noise, not a sound except the occasional rustle of leaves caught in the wind.

Alec closed his eyes, allowed the tears to fall silently down his cheeks as he turned, heading back to his new life as inquisitor of The Clave.

In the wilderness of Canada, Magnus faced the mountain range and sparse trees that gathered further into deep forest, the dusk sky rolling immense over their heads. The portal had snapped shut, leaving nothing but cold air. Magnus breathed shakily, his hand outstretched to nothing, fingers trembling in the cold air.

“I…” he tried to continue in a whisper, barely a breath, and knew it was no good.

There were hands on him as his legs gave out, grasping at him as he fell to his knees, and Magnus couldn’t bring himself to feel comforted. His thoughts were with Alec, the look in his eyes when he told Magnus to go, the press of his lips on Magnus’s hands, the timber of his voice when he told Magnus he loved him.

“I didn’t say it fast enough,” he choked through his tears, gripping a hand into his hair. “I—I need to tell him. I have to go back.” Magic flared his fingers and firm hands covered his own, trapping the power against his skin. “No, please, I have to… I have to go back. Please—”

“Magnus,” a voice uttered in his ear and he recognised it as Raphael. “He knows.”

Magnus barely registered the hands on him, helping him to his feet, Catarina embracing him, Lucian clapping him on the shoulder, Madzie clinging to his leg. He understood it all in the back of his mind, but his thoughts were with Alec. For years thereafter, his thoughts were with Alec and all that they had been and all they _would_ be. Alec Lightwood was the inquisitor of The Clave, blessed by the angel, saviour of the downworld. Magnus Bane was the son of a greater demon, survivor of the uprising, leader of the downworld; a rebel, an outcast, a failed sacrifice.

They hadn’t changed everything. The shadowhunters wouldn’t alter their ways entirely for generations yet, and the downworld may never forgive them even if they did. There would always be those who remembered. The stories of those they had lost would never be forgotten; downworlder children would go to sleep at night hearing of their names and their heroic deeds, big and small.

Even through so much terror and hatred, so much pain and loss, there were still things worth living for. In the darkest time of his life, Alec had reminded him of that and Magnus knew it to be true now more than ever. Even if they had to live apart, they were still living.

Together, they would live.


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The downworlders who escaped New York have made their homes in the Canadian wilderness, living in harmony with nature and with each other. They haven't seen a shadowhunter for years and, for most of them, it has been a blessing. For Magnus Bane, being separated from his love has been harder than he ever thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the final time, thank you so, so much to those who left kudos, and especially to those who commented on the last chapter: @Brandi Mahoney, @all_fandoms_reader, @pinkysloth, @PhoenixStar73, @dani_dabbles, @master_girl, @Hishiroo, @Maryliz2121, @Vallier, and @magique_lightbane!
> 
> I am so, so grateful for your support and kind words over the duration of this story. I have loved writing this; it's rocketed up to the favourite story I have ever published and I hope you've enjoyed reading it was much as I've enjoyed writing it.

An autumn breeze swept through the branches overhead, rustling pine needles like a melody. A bird called a trill whistle into the air. The nearby river gurgled like a new-born and rocks crunched beneath Magnus’s shoes as he stepped out from the tree line.

He had let his hair grow out again, longer than ever before. It served as a reminder of times long passed. The wind pushed dark locks over his face, tickled his cheeks, and he combed it back with his fingers, sweeping it to the side and knotting it lazily into a messy side braid as he made his way to the water’s edge. His magic graced the braid with wildflowers.

Bears were fishing downstream, great grizzly creatures with jaws opened to catch salmon mid-leap. They didn’t bother Magnus, as he didn’t bother them. They had grown accustomed to one another over the years. Magnus’s magic was a natural defence to their confusion. He was a creature of the earth as they were.

The water was cold on his face, but refreshing and much needed and it trickled down his neck when he tilted his head back to the sky.

Canada had been good to them, their haven undisturbed for years. Not even the most adventurous hikers made it out this far. It was an animal sanctuary, but now a downworlder one too. Mundanes didn’t bother them, nor did any shadowhunter. They lived in a perfect harmony with nature, just as humans should have done.

For the first years, they lived in fear. They set perimeters and had patrols, sending guards out to keep watch through the night. No one had used their demonic powers; not a wolf turned or a spell cast for almost a decade. It had been small at first. Magnus had conjured the fire back to life rather than go through the trouble of struggling with a flint.

His people had stared and they had waited but no shadowhunters came to cut them down. Nothing happened.

After that, everything became easier. Magic brought them nothing big, nothing major, just small comforts: bedrolls and blankets, candles and clothes. Lucian hunted with what little remained of his pack. Magnus always stayed up on those nights, sitting by the fire outside his jauntily build home, listening to their howls echo through the forest. It sounded like freedom.

Their homes were wood and bracken and never changed all that much from the original, natural houses they had built to begin with. A little village blending in with the forest. They hunted and fished only what they needed to survive and nothing was wasted; they shared everything with one another. It wasn’t merely surviving anymore. They were _living_.

It was an impossible notion mere years ago—decades actually, now that Magnus thinks upon it—and now it was real. If only he had someone to share it with.

The others were good to him; they were kind and tactful and ensured that he could want for nothing, but it wasn’t the same. Magnus looked his people and he saw families. They had several weddings within just the first month of arriving, people who had survived together for so long now given the chance to settle down together in peace.

As much as they had accomplished and as much as they had been given, Magnus was still deprived of his love. Alec had stayed behind to fulfil his quest to help downworlders all across the globe. There was no contact between them, nothing at all. Alec had promised to find him, but decades now had passed and Magnus had lost his optimism.

Sometimes Magnus thought he saw him, thought he saw his outline between the trees. When he would run to it, however, it would be a tree stump or a rock or simply some undergrowth. It had been a deer once. Magnus supposed he had scared the poor thing half to death by crashing through the bracken at it.

Scooping his hands into the river, he splashed another surge of water across his face to wash away the memories. They were no good to him now. It would likely happen a dozen more times before he could accept what he had feared for so long.

Magnus lifted his head to let the wind through his hair and froze in place because there, across the river, stood a man. A shadowhunter rune lay black and bold over the side of his neck, hazel eyes shining in the sunlight. His dark hair was streaked and salted in grey. Magnus rose slowly to his feet, blinking hard.

“Alec?” he called out over the water, wondering if this was real, if it could ever be real.

The shadowhunter smiled at him and Magnus knew that his mind could never have imagined that in such perfect detail. His feet scrambled for hold on the rocks as he ran straight through the water. It was freezing and it seeped into his boots and he was fairly sure he scared a couple of fish, but it didn’t matter.

Alec met him on the shore of the opposite bank, wrapping Magnus in a tight hug. They simply clung to one another and Magnus wouldn’t mind at all if it lasted forever. Alec shuddered in his arms and Magnus held him tighter upon the realisation that he was crying. They both were, simple, desperate relief forcing their emotions to the surface.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Magnus whispered in a voice that came thick with tears.

Alec huffed softly and it moved his chest and Magnus closed his eyes tight, relishing that movement, that proof of existence, of _life_. “I told you that you would…”

When they pulled back a fraction, just enough to take one another in, Magnus narrowed soft eyes at Alec’s greying hair, at the laughter lines around his weathered eyes, the only evidence of his mortality. Those years running The Clave have taken their toll. Vaguely, Magnus wondered how old the shadowhunter was now; he must be fifty at least.

“I like your hair,” Alec said, tracing a hand over the braid, soft fingertips caressing over the flowers woven into the long locks. He sounded the same; that steady, soothing timbre of his voice was so calming. His eyes were the same colour, but they were duller now than Magnus remembered. Still kind though; so kind. “You look good.”

Magnus breathed out slowly, pressing his palm to Alec’s cheek, smoothing away the tears there with his thumb “You look tired,” he replied, ensuring his voice was as soft as possible, but he couldn’t stop the grief from tremoring his words. “You took your time, my darling.”

“I had to,” Alec said. “The downworld needed an ally in The Clave. There were hundreds of people just like you all across the world, downworlders who get to live in peace now without fear of harm. I left The Clave with new generations of shadowhunters coming in, ones who haven’t been trained to kill downworlders, who tolerate their existence… The world is changing, Magnus.” He breathed out slowly, ducking his gaze. “I’m sorry I was so long… I got old.”

Magnus shook his head. “Hush,” he soothed, pushed his fingers into Alec’s salted hair. “You are _so_ beautiful.”

Alec leaned into his touch. “I thought of you every day.”

“And I you,” Magnus said, leaning forward to rest his head against the shadowhunter’s chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, _so_ familiar, and it was enough to bring him to tears, enough to have him admit what he had been so desperately trying to hide from his people, from himself. “I missed you, Alexander… I missed you so much.”

Alec’s arms came around Magnus’s waist, holding him close, and it was such a simple action, but a single tear slipped free, tracing a warm line down the warlock’s cheek. “Can I stay with you?”

Magnus nodded, his eyes glossing with grief that Alec thought he ever had to ask. “Yes,” he whispered, his heart so full. “Yes, my love. Stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Link to original tumblr post: https://harkasun.tumblr.com/post/622553548313542656/take-on-the-world


End file.
